Chase the Stars
by Ultra Rodimus
Summary: Crossover. A breach in the barriers between dimensions deposits a group of strangers aboard the Starship Enterprise. And that is only the beginning... R&R please!
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note: I've had this story swimming around in my head for quite some time now, and lately it's gotten so persistent that "Boiling Point" is being swamped. So I decided to finally get this out of my head. "Boiling Point" is stalled, and I have no idea when I'll get to write the next chapter. Blame the plot bunnies.

Disclaimer: I do not own the Transformers or Star Trek: Next Generation. I'm only borrowing them. The characters of Ultra Rodimus and Falcon are my own creations. The character of Shadow belongs to a fellow author, shadow goddess04, and is used with her permission.

**Chase the Stars**

**Prologue**

Captain Jean-Luc Picard of the starship _Enterprise _was bored, though he'd never admit it. For several weeks space had been quiet. The Klingons were handling their own business, the Orions and Ferengi were laying low, and there wasn't so much as a peep out of the Romulans. The _Enterprise _and her crew were merely drifting about on a ramdom course. Boredom was running rampant. The holodecks were working overtime. Boredom had spawned several fights, giving the medical staff, especially Dr. Beverly Crusher, some work to do. Other crewmembers were beginning to ask if they would be getting planet-side shore leave any time soon.

Looking at the heap of pads on his desk, most of them requests for shore leave, Picard heaved a sigh and privately wished something would happen.

Big mistake.

When people make such requests, Fate has a way of granting them. Not always in the manner expected by whoever made the wish, though. And when people wish for excitement, Fate has a way of delivering in bulk.

A console began to beep. Amber eyes regarded a blinking diode for a moment. Then the owner of those eyes accessed the console, looking for the cause of the alert.

"Data to Picard."

The captain looked up from his work. "Picard here."

"The internal sensors are reading a spike in what appears to be temporal energy."

The pad fell to the desk. Picard was out the door and onto the bridge before it landed.

He strode over to Data's console, joining his first officer, Will Riker. "Appears to be temporal energy?"

"Correct, Captain." Pale fingers flew across the console. "The readings are inconsistent with any form of temporal energies we have previously encountered."

"And this anomaly is forming inside the ship?" Riker demanded.

"Affirmative."

"Where?"

Data scanned the readings. "Shuttlebay Three."

Picard and Riker looked at each other. Then Picard ordered a security team and Chief Engineer Geordi Laforge at the shuttlebay. Riker and Data followed as he headed for the turbolift.

At first glance, the shuttle bay appeared quiet. There was no sign of anything between the rows of shuttles occupying the bay. But all of those present knew very well that looks could be deceiving.

The anomaly was located near the center of the bay, several meters above the deck. There was no visible sign of it. After a few moments of squinting at the spot, trying to catch a glimpse of anything, Picard opened his mouth to order a containment field placed around the anomaly.

That was when all hell broke loose.

A piecing shriek came out of nowhere, stabbing through everyone like a phaser blast. There was an explosion of light overhead, accompanied by a powerful wind that threatened to send them flying across the bay. Covering his ears in an attempt to block out that nerve-rattling shriek, Picard looked up.

The anomaly was now visible, a writhing hole hanging in mid-air, glowing madly. Bursts of color shot through its edge, the patterns holding for less than a second before shifting. Eyes watering, Picard stared into it. Then something came hurtling out of it, landing with a thud on the deck. The hole flared even brighter, finally forcing Picard to look away. There were more thuds, how many he couldn't tell, barely audible over the terrible screaming.

And then, as suddenly as it had begun, it was over.

Slowly, Picard lowered his hands, blinking flash spots from his eyes. He looked up to where the anomaly had been and found it gone. Then, as he was turning back toward Data and Geordi, he noticed the body.

A few feet away, a humanoid form lay sprawled out on the deck, face down and unmoving. Picard cautiously approached, turning the figure onto its back.

The stranger was male, a quite handsome male. He was dressed in green and silver garments resembing the uniform of a 20th century helicopter pilot. Green-gold hair fanned out across the deck. He was unconscious.

"Captin?"

Picard looked up.

Not far away, Riker was examining another sprawled shape. A third was visible around the edge of a shuttle's engine pod.

"How many are there?"

Twelve in all were located. All were unconscious. They ranged in height from just over five feet to over seven feet. Hair color varied from black, red, and blond to blue. Picard wondered who they were.

"Picard to Crusher."

_"Crusher here."_

"I think you should get Sickbay ready. We've got guests. Twelve of them."

_"Acknowledged. We'll be ready." _

Picard signed off, then looked back at the still forms being readied for transport to Sickbay. "The sooner they wake up, the sooner we find out exactly who they are."

"Captain! We found something else!"

"What is it?"

Geordi walked over to him, holding onto the collar of a large animal, a dog. It stood almost as high as his waist, coal-black with four white feet, a white tailtip, and a white underbelly. Its bushy tail was down, its ears were down, and it was limping slightly on one leg.

"One of them had a pet."

"I'll have the ship's vet take a look at this critter." Geordi led the animal out.

Picard turned toward Data. "Get to work on the data the sesors gathered. See what you can find out about that anomaly."

"Yes, sir."

**Tbc...**

Ok, that didn't work out quite how I planned, but it'll do. Send me reviews and tell me what you think. Just remember, one review does not an update make. Flames will be used to roast critics, so keep them to yourselves. Now review!


	2. Dimension Jumping

Author's Note: Here is the second chapter of this story. Thank you to everyone who reviewed the prologue.This update comes courtesy of the battered plot bunnies who crawled out of the free-for-all raging in my plot bunny corral. Most of them are still fighting, but some are coming out and the latest escapees, fortunately, were for this chapter.

For those who are new to my fics, this story will contain SLASH. The main pairing will be Ultra Rodimus/Magnus, with other Transformer pairings appearing later in the story. Any Star Trek pairings will be taken directly from the show (Riker/Troi or Worf/Troi or the inevitable love triangle), or suggested by the readers. If you don't like slash, you know what the "Back" button is for.

Disclaimer: I don't own the Transformers orStar Trek:TNG. I'm just borrowing them. The characters of Ultra Rodimus and Falcon are my own creations, and the character of Shadow is on loan from a fellow fanfic author.

**Chase the Stars**

**Chapter 1: Dimension Jumping**

It was a slow day in and around Autobot City, on Earth. The last group of ambassadors, this time from Japan, had just left, and most of the population of Autobot City had vacated the premises for the time being. Only a few bots were left, and none of them were doing anything resembling work. They were taking advantage of the slow day to get in some R&R time. If Metroplex needed any help with anything, he'd call them.

In the rec lounge, the Protectobots were playing a round of poker with Springer and Mirage. Arcee had gone on the warpath against the clutter that had invaded the quarters she and Springer shared. Sandstorm was taking a much-needed nap in a sunlit corner of the courtyard. Ultra Magnus was playing chess against Metroplex. Ultra Rodimus, the young Autobot leader, had taken the opportunity to get in some play time with his pet cyber-wolf, Lightfoot. He'd somehow gotten his hands on a frisbee large enough for someone his size and was tossing it for Lightfoot to catch. Barking happily, the cyber-wolf chased after it, caught it out of the air, and brought it back, engaging in a bit of tug-of-war before letting go and waiting for the next throw.

"I didn't know anyone could tame a cyber-wolf," a voice said from the direction of the spaceport. Ultra Rodimus looked up to see a red and black femme a little more than half his size standing there, watching curiously.

"Shadow?"

The femme grinned at him. "Long time no see, big guy."

"It has been a while," the young Prime agreed, picking up the frisbee and scratching his pet behind the ears.

Shadow had served as his bodyguard on a diplomatic mission four years previously. The mission had gone badly after one of the alien leaders attempted to force the Autobots to obey him. The demon lurking in Ultra Rodimus's core had awakened, dragging him into a killing rage. Shadow had attempted to stop him and had been badly hurt in the process. Her wounds hadn't been near life-threatening, but the shock of being so badly damaged by her own leader and the sight of the carnage he'd left in his wake had left deep scars on her soul. She'd left soon after their return to Cybertron, needing some time to come to grips with what had happened. No one had known where she'd gone.

Shadow walked over to him, holding out one hand for Lightfoot to sniff. "So, where'd this fellow come from?"

"I captured him a couple of years ago. He responded very well to kind treatment, and some minor adjustments to his programming did the rest. Cyber-wolves were originally designed as pets and guard dogs before they went feral. It wasn't difficult to get his original programming to resurface."

The 'wolf nudged Shadow's fingers, and she obediently scratched his head. Both bots settled onto a bench to talk, Lightfoot curling up at his master's feet. They were quickly deep in converstion.

"You and Magnus?" Shadow repeated. "How did that happen?"

Ultra Rodimus shrugged. "We're really not sure. Lifebonds are unpredictable. It just happened, about a year or so after you left."

Noticing the skrill on his arm, she asked about it. He described how the creature had ended up attached to him and the relationship it had with him. Shadow examined it curiously.

"As if you needed any more firepower," she teased.

"Wasn't my idea. He decided he liked me and wouldn't take no for an answer. I wasn't sure if he'd be able to survive attached to a robot, but the crystal cue ball I'm carrying handled that."

"Primus still keeping an eye on you?"

"Yeah. Why, I'm not sure. He seems very fond of me." Ultra Rodimus looked down at his pet, who'd rolled onto his back, all four paws in the air, then reached down to scratch his belly. Lightfoot's tail wagged happily.

"He seems very friendly."

"Lightfoot? He's all bounce and friendliness. If he likes you, he'll jump all over you and try to lick you to death. Threaten me and you're in for it. He's very protective."

Shadow chuckled. "Sounds like you've been busy."

"Tell me about it. It's been non-stop."

Footsteps coming up the main road into the city heralded the return of Perceptor, coming back from a science convention that had been held in a nearby city. The Autobot scientist had been invited because of some of his more remarkable inventions, and he'd relished the chance to be with people who could speak tech-talk as fluently as he did.

"How was the convention?" Ultra Rodimus asked.

"It was an enlightening experience," Perceptor responded. "I learned a great deal."

"But not how to talk normally, I see," Shadow commented.

Ultra Rodimus snorted. "Him? Speak normally? Not in this lifetime, Shadow. Fortunately, I was successful at putting together a Perceptor/English dictionary. It's a great help when plowing through his reports."

Perceptor looked mock-offended. Shadow chuckled.

Lightfoot suddenly rolled over, head up, ears flicking back and forth. Ultra Rodimus looked down at him, wondering what was going on. He knew very well that animals were far more sensitive to some things than anyone else. That was proven every time a family pet noticed that its owner was sick before the owner even knew. So he had no doubts that Lightfoot was sensing something that disturbed him.

The cyber-wolf climbed to his feet, glancing in every direction, closely watched by Ultra Rodimus. Magnus, who'd picked up on his mate's suspicion through their lifebond, came over to join them. Four pairs of optics watched as Lightfoot "scanned" for the source of the disturbance. Every line of his body radiated tension. Then his ears went back, his head went down, his tail went between his hind legs, and he tried to crawl backwards underneath the bench, whimpering.

"What's the matter, boy?" Ultra Rodimus knelt down, touching the cyber-wolf's shoulder. Lightfoot pressed against him, trying to hide. The creature was shaking.

Perceptor had pulled out a scanner when he'd realized that Lightfoot was sensing something. At first, he'd found nothing. Then the device began to beep, and a familiar energy pattern began to take shape.

"Oh, no."

Ultra Rodimus turned to ask him what was wrong, but before he could get a word out the answer presented itself, taking the form of something he'd rather not have seen any time soon.

It was something he was all too familiar with, a dimensional breach of the artificial kind. Its piercing shriek went right through them like a plasma blast, making Lightfoot howl in pain. The breach's sucking wind pulled in the stray bits of debris littering the courtyard and yanked at Ultra Rodimus long braid,

"What in Primus's name is going on here?" Shadow demanded, shouting to be heard over the noise.

"Dimensional breach!" Ultra Rodimus yelled back. "It's a hole between realities! But where did it come from? We did nothing to cause a breach to open!"

With a lurch, the hole increased in size, and the power of its winds increased considerably. The bots in the courtyard grabbed onto benches and support beams to keep from being sucked in. Ultra Rodimus wrapped one arm around a support beam and the other around the wailing cyber-wolf. Then he felt the very city shifting. But before he could do anything, it was too late. Metroplex squawked in surprise as he was ripped loose from the ground he'd anchored to and pulled into the screaming breach, taking the thirteen Autobots and one mech animal with him.

The trip through the breach was every bit as rough as Ultra Rodimus remembered. Then came the unmistakeable feeling of his body changing form. The support beam he was holding slid out of his grasp, finally vanishing altogether. He clung to Lightfoot, feeling fur under his hands. Then the cyber-wolf was torn from his arms, and he was spit out of the churning vortex. He fell some distance from the opening, landing on a hard surface with enough force to knock the wind out of him. He tried to get up, get his breath back, but it was no use. He blacked out.

**Tbc...**

And there is chapter one. I hope you like it. The next chapter will be up as soon as the plot bunnies drag themselves out of that fight they got into. How long that will take, I have no idea.

Now send me reviews and tell me what you think. Gromia, Fenestrae, I'd wondered where you two had disappeared to. I didn't hear from you when I posted ch 4 of "Boiling Point". And speaking of "Boiling Point", it's on temporary hiatus. This fic swamped it, so it probably won't be updated again until more of this fic is up. Sorry!


	3. Awakening

Author's Note: I know this is a very quick update, but the ideas for this fic are coming fast and hard. It's very difficult to concentrate on anything when your mind is crowded with fic ideas. So I'm trying to get them out as fast as I can. Here's the next chapter!

Disclaimer: The only characters I own are Ultra Rodimus and Falcon. Everyone else belongs to somebody else.

**Chase The Stars**

**Chapter 2: Awakening**

Several hours had passed since the anomaly had appeared when Picard called together his command staff. They filed into the briefing room and took their seats. Picard looked at Data.

"Have you been able to learn anything more about the nature of the anomaly?" he asked.

The android shook his head. "No, sir. It is unlike anything ever encountered before. All I can determine is that it is some kind of temporal phenomenon."

"Perhaps our guests could tell us more about it," Riker commented.

"How are our guests?" the captain asked Dr. Crusher. "Have any of them woken up yet?"

She shook her head. "No, they haven't. All fourteen are still unconscious."

"Fourteen? We found twelve."

"Two more were located on top of one of the shuttles," Data explained. "They were not visible from below."

"Ah." Picard turned back to the doctor. "What can you tell us about them?"

"Well, I can tell you that they're not human. All of them have pointed ears, some pointier than others, and their eyes have slitted pupils. Of the fourteen, twelve are male."

"Only twelve?" Geordi wondered.

"Long hair seems to be the current fashion for both sexes."

"Anything else?" Riker asked.

"They have almost no body hair. From their physique I'd guess that they're very athletic."

"Or warriors," Worf pointed out. "A warrior, if he is to survive, must be in very good condition."

Beverly nodded to him. "Or they could be warriors. As far as I can tell, all of them are the same race, but one of them shows some surprising differences."

"Which one?"

"A silver-haired male."

"The one with the long braid? I thought that was a female!" Transporter Chief Miles O'Brien blurted out.

"Despite appearances, he is quite male. I checked." Beverly waited for O'Brien's blush to fade a bit before she continued. "He is of the same race as the others, but his internal structure is different than theirs, and his blood is dark blue; theirs is more green. His genetic structure also shows some differences. From the look of it, I'd guess that someone tampered with his DNA." She looked at the notes on her datapad. "Their hair colors are all natural, by the way. Including the blues and greens."

"How could you tell?" a puzzled Deanna Troi asked. "It has been my observation that humans and humanoids like to dye their hair."

"True, but they only dye the hair people see. I noticed when I was doing my examinations that the hair below their belt line is the same color."

"Oh."

Beverly was about to say something else when her comm badge beeped. "Crusher here."

_"I think one of our visitors is starting to wake up."_

The entire group headed down to Sickbay.

Fourteen bodies lay on the biobeds, most of them out cold. Picard looked them over.

The largest, a male that looked to be over seven feet in height, had short black hair. His clothing was grey, with red and black markings. On the upper right side of the chest was a face-shaped red marking. Next to him was the green-gold-haired male in the pilot's uniform. The third bed was occupied by a male whose hair was dark blue at the roots, shading to a blue so pale it was almost white at the tips. He wore blue and white scout's gear. The fourth figure was one of the two females. She was beautiful. Her long hair was black, tipped in red. She wore black and red clothing that looked like some kind of armor. On the next bed was a black-haired male dressed in the uniform of a 20th century fireman. The next two males, both dark-haired, wore police uniforms. One also had a biker's helmet.

On the other side of the room were seven more biobeds, all occupied. On the far end was the other female, a blonde wearing pink and white. Next to her was a redheaded male in a medic's uniform, like a paramedic. On the next bed was a male with white-tipped red hair, dressed as a chopper pilot. The next male, another redhead, wore red and orange clothing that didn't look like a uniform of any kind. On closer inspection, Picard noticed that the redhead's temples were just beginning to show hints of grey. The next bed held a man with short hair that was fiery red at the tips but looked darker underneath. He wore a white lab coat over red and blue garments. Next to him was a man dressed like a truck driver, wearing red, blue, and white. His hair was a dark blue. And on the last bed lay a male dressed in light grey clothing, marked with red and blue. His silver hair was held back in a braid that hung over the side of the biobed to touch the floor.

A flicker of movement caught Picard's attention. He looked in its direction, meeting the green eyes of the animal draped over the silver-haired man's legs. It was the black and white dog that had been found in the shuttle bay.The dog lay over the man's legs, covering them from knee to hip, forepaws on his stomach. The two regarded each other for a moment. Then the dog put its head back down on its paws, waiting for its master to wake up.

"Why is the dog here and not with the vet?" Picard asked.

"To protect his master's dignity."

"Pardon?"

Beverly indicated the silver-haired male. "This guy isn't just handsome. By most standards, he's drop-dead gorgeous. Ever since he was brought here ther's been a steady stream of female crew members coming in to see him for themselves, and several of them attempted to sneak a look below the belt. I thought about calling security, but it seems not even males are immune to his looks, so I had the dog brought in."

Riker stared at the animal. "That's not a dog."

"No?" Beverly frowned at the creature.

"Doctor, I was brought up in Alaska. I know a wolf when I see one."

"That's a wolf?"

"It's larger than a typical wolf, but it is a wolf."

"And it's a pet. See the collar?" Beverly turned the collar until the tags came out from under the wolf's chin. The tag was engraved with the same red face insignia that all of the strangers bore. On the other side was the animal's name. She read it out. "Lightfoot."

Another member of the medical staff tapped her on the shoulder. "The blonde female shows signs of waking up," he reported.

A groan answered his report, and the indicated female stirred. Slowly, she sat up, rubbing her eyes and blinking. Then, as if she had triggered everyone else, brainwaves began to change, and more people began to come around. Next to wake up was the redhead with the lab coat.

Picard and the others stood back, watching as more of the strangers woke up. Some mumbled in a strange, tonal language. Others just sat and stared.

A happy bark drew Picard's attention to the wolf. The black brush of a tail was wagging a mile a minute, the ears were up, and there was a silly grin on its face. Then, unable to contain itself, it was up on its paws and enthusiastically licking its master's face.

"Mmmpppphhhh!" The silver-haired man woke up with a start, pushing at the ecstatic creature. "Lightfoot! Would you please knock it off? Your breath is terrible!"

The wolf sat back on his haunches, panting, tail still going so hard it was creating a breeze. The man sat up, and a wet nose began nudging his chin. He sighed and began petting the creature.

"Damn dimensional breach," the bluenette on the next bed grumbled as he pushed himself up to a sitting position. "I hate it when that happens."

"Join the club," the first man commented in a deep, warm bass voice. His sharp green eyes scanned the others. "Springer. Mirage. Arcee. Hot Spot. First Aid. Groove. Blades. Perceptor. Streetwise. Shadow. Sandstorm." He looked at the last one curiously.

The last man, the black-haired one wearing grey, was staring at his hands in obvious astonishment. Then he stared at the silver-haired man, jaw working, but uncertain of what to say. He looked back at himself. "I'm not _huge _anymore!"

The silver-haired man grinned. "Hello, Metroplex."

Wide blue eyes looked at him. Then the man called Metroplex slid off the biobed and stood on the floor, staring down at his feet. He took a few tentative steps, holding onto the edge of the bed. "I can move around... without damaging anything! I can interact with people who aren't the size of ants compared to me! I can talk to people face to face!"

"He's really enjoying this," the bluenette observed.

Picard stepped forward, clearing his throat. All eyes turned in his direction. He turned to face the silver-haired male. "I am Captain Jean-Luc Picard of the Federation starship _Enterprise."_

"Starship?" someone asked.

"The ship you are aboard right now." Picard turned back to the man with the wolf, who watched him carefully. "It would be appreciated if you would tell us who you are, where you are from, and how you came to be here."

**Tbc...**

Another chapter down. So, what do you think? Click on that button marked "review" and let me know!


	4. Interacting

Author's Note: After more than a bit of prodding from readers and some wrangling of plot bunnies, this chapter is ready for posting. Enjoy. Will be upping the rating slightly, though.

Fenestrae, in answer to your question about why Ultra Rodimus seems to be such a magnet for dimensional ruptures, it's because, like lightning strikes, a breach seeks the shortest path. Most of the breaches the Autobots have encountered were caused when two interacting energies, such as weapons fire impacting weapons fire, tore a hole through the barriers. Even after the breach closes the barriers remain thin. Which makes it even more likely that more breaches will use the same path. The barriers in Cybertronian space are quite weak, which would explain the number of ruptures. And since Cybertron drifts through space instead of truly orbiting something, it's inevitable that the planet will come close enough to a weak spot for a breach to influence it. Hope this clears up some confusion.

Disclaimer: Star Trek: Next Generation and the Transformers belong to people with lots of lawyers. Ultra Rodimus and Falcon belong to me. Shadow is on loan from her creator, shadow goddess04.

**Chase the Stars**

**Chapter 3: Interacting**

Ultra Rodimus's eyes narrowed as he regarded the balding human in the red uniform. The old human had the aura of authority; he was clearly the one in command. But he obviously wasn't aware of Ultra Rodimus's status. The Autobot leader did not respond well to intimidation, and his people knew it.

"Why?" he rumbled, deliberately sliding a note of suspicion into the query.

Picard looked blank for a moment. He wasn't used to that kind of response. "We are not familiar with you, and you arrived through an anomaly the likes of which we have never encountered before," he replied after a moment's thought.

Green eyes narrowed to slits. They seemed to be staring right through him. Then they suddenly shot over his shoulder to focus on Counselor Troi. "I do not probe your mind, so keep out of mine," the strange man snapped sharply.

"Captain, he's empathic!" Deanna blurted out.

"Slightly empathic," the bluenette corrected calmly. "Limited range, only able to sense strong emotions unless he's in close proximity or physical contact with the person he's reading." He swung his legs over the side of the bed, looking right at Picard. "If I were you, I'd watch my behavior around Roddy. He doesn't respond well to intimidation. It only makes him even more irritated than he already was."

"Roddy? That's his name?" Riker asked.

"Nickname," was the bass growl. "I am called Ultra Rodimus Prime." Sharp eyes took in the group behind Picard. "You did not introduce the rest of your group."

"My first officer, Commander Will Riker, second officer Lieutenant-Commander Data, Dr. Beverly Crusher, ship's counselor Deanna Troi, Lieutenant Worf, Lieutenant-Commander Geordi La Forge, my chief engineer, and Transporter Chief Miles O'Brien," Picard introduced, nodding to each. Then he looked back to Ultra Rodimus. "And yours?"

Ultra Rodimus eyed him for a moment, then nodded at the bluenette on the next bed. "Ultra Magnus, my second-in-command. Perceptor, scientist. Sandstorm, my aide. Blades. First Aid, chief medic. Arcee. Groove and Streetwise. Hot Spot, leader of a team which includes First Aid, Groove, Blades, and Streetwise. Shadow, my bodyguard and a female not to be underestimated. Mirage, reconnaisance expert. Springer, my air commander. And Metroplex, the _last _person you'd want to run into on a bad day."

"And here I thought that _you _were the last person they'd want to mess with," Metroplex mused, glancing at him.

Ultra Rodimus shrugged.

"Interesting names," Riker noted.

Shadow blinked rapidly, her brain finally able to sort out all of the sensory imput it was receiving. A human's senses were far sharper than those of a robot. She moved to get off the table...

Something on her back moved. She glanced over her shoulder and saw feathers.

"What the hell...?" She reached back to grab the feathers. They moved again, and a pair of wings tried to open, failed, and flopped. Her eyes went huge. She stared at the appendages, then grabbed at one. It was too strange even for her and she began to freak out.

"SHADOW!" Ultra Rodimus barked.

The female's eyes, bright yellow with slitted pupils, turned to him. She was beginning to hyperventilate.

"Calm down," he told her.

"Calm down? CALM DOWN? HOW CAN I CALM DOWN?" she demanded.

"It's not unusual to have things like that. Some of us have similar abilities, just different. Mirage still has his cloak. Blurr was still blindingly fast. You are a flier. It doesn't surprise me that you'd have wings. You'll just have to get used to them. Now calm down. They're as much a part of you as your jet form."

Shadow stared at him, but slowly began to calm down. After a few attempts she managed to get her wings properly folded again, but she kept sneaking glances over her shoulder at them. Mirage patted her shoulder.

"You'll get used to them," he assured her.

"You had a similar problem?"

"I did. At least this time my cloak is working properly. Last time I had a terrible time turning it off."

Picard watched the interactions curiously, wondering what they were talking about. He asked Ultra Rodimus to explain.

Ultra Rodimus looked at him. "It is a long story, and most of my comrades are unused to being in this form. Give us time to adjust. Then I will tell you our story."

His tone brooked no argument. Reluctantly, Picard agreed.

Quarters had been set aside for the group. Picard led the way. As they went, female crew mwmbers crowded the side corridors and doorways to gawk at the strangers. Picard looked back at them from the corner of his eye.

He had to agree that the newcomers were very good-looking. With his golden skin, long silver hair, full height of six foot six, and magnificent physique, Ultra Rodimus was stunning. Magnus was just as handsome with his bronze skin, long blue hair, and the graceful way he moved. At six foot ten, he could be an intimidating person. Mirage and Springer were quite eye-catching, as were the team of five trailing them. Arcee was a quite beautiful female, but the way she stayed close to Springer spoke volumes. And Shadow would probably have half the male population of the ship drooling over her before long. Metroplex was quite handsome in his own way, but his size, a full seven feet four inches in height, would probably keep interested females well away.

"Mirage."

"Yeah?" The scout perked up.

"Stay with Metroplex, would you? This is his first experience with being less that five hundred seventy-plus feet tall, and he's going to be thrown by it."

"You got it, big guy." Mirage dropped back to walk beside Metroplex.

"Shadow, Arcee, you stay with Springer. He can give you some advice on adjusting to your new forms."

They agreed without a hint of discontent, closing in on the green-gold-haired man.

There were a few more adjustments to who would stay with who before they reached the quarters assigned to them. Small groups entered their assigned rooms. Magnus and Sandstorm joined Ultra Rodimus. The door closed behind them.

Picard regarded the closed door suspiciously. Riker touched his shoulder. "Something on your mind?"

"Ultra Rodimus did not tell us what his rank is, but from the way the others interact with him he wields at least some authority."

"You're bothered because there's a high-ranking person and an unknown rooming with him," Riker guessed.

"Exactly."

"I'm sure they have their reasons."

Picard didn't respond to that. He gave the door one last glare, then walked away. Riker followed.

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Once the door had closed, Ultra Rodimus's shoulders slumped as he dropped the mask of the Prime and became himself again. Sandstorm exchanged a glance with Magnus before exploring the rooms and judging them satisfactory, if a little spartan in decor.

"By your standards, at least," Ultra Rodimus teased, wandering into the bedroom. Magnus waited a minute, then followed.

The young Prime stood by the window, looking out into space. He'd taken off his long coat, boots, and tunic. Starlight gleamed softly off his skin and hair. Magnus walked over to him.

"You have to relax," he commented as he joined his mate, slipping his arms around a slender body. "You can't treat everyone like that."

Ultra Rodimus sighed and leaned back against him. "I know. It's just..."

"You being naturally suspicious," Magnus finished. "You still have to relax."

"I can't."

That sounded like a challenge. A playful smile touched Magnus's lips. Then he shifted his arms.

Ultra Rodimus let out a squawk of surprise as feather-light fingertips brushed his sides. Then he was squirming in an attempt to get away from the larger male. Magnus knew his weakness in his human form.

Ultra Rodimus was ticklish.

Very ticklish, especially down both sides and the soles of his feet. Which meant that when he tried to protect one part, the other was vulnerable. When he curled up into a ball to protect his sides, Magnus grabbed his ankles and ran his figers over the soles. Ultra Rodimus thrashed, pulling his feet away, and Magnus went after his sides again. It was a very one-sided battle.

"Okay okay okay! UNCLE!" Ultra Rodimus gasped out through his laughter. Magnus let go and Ultra Rodimus collapsed onto his back, panting, trying to get his breath back.

At some point, Magnus had managed to get the younger man onto the bed. He lounged beside his sprawled mate, watching him with amusement.

"You fight dirty," Ultra Rodimus panted, pretending to glare at him.

Magnus grinned. "Maybe, but it got results."

Ultra Rodimus made a face. Magnus laughed at him, then leaned down and captured his lips.

The kiss was deep and passionate. Ultra Rodimus reached up, combing his fingers through Magnus's hair and stroking his back. A bronze-skinned hand ran down his side to his waist. With practiced ease, Magnus undid the lizard-skin belt and tossed it aside, then made quick work of the rest of his lover's clothing. Purring, Ultra Rodimus waited while Magnus stripped off his own garments, tossing them to the floor. Then he lowered his larger form down on top of his mate, who welcomed him eagerly.

To Ultra Rodimus, one of the perks of being connected mind-to-mind was that there was no fumbling around, no mistakes. They knew what each other liked, and what they didn't. Everything was shared between them. They knew each other intimately, as no other person ever would. And that was the way they liked it.

**Tbc...**

A certain pair of characters have been after me for being too tame when describing what happens in their off hours, so blame them for that last bit. At least that will get them off my back for awhile. Now click on that button marked "Review" and let me know what you think! But no flames, please. Any and all flames can be directed to my middle finger.


	5. Explanations

Author's Note: The eagerly-awaited next chapter is here! Thank you very much to everyone who read this fic and encouraged me to write more. Sorry for making you wait! And this chapter will probably include the arrival of Q, right at the end. No, I'm not trying to tease you. He will be showing up, but will not have much of a part until the next chapter.

Disclaimer: Ultra Rodimus and Falcon belong to me. Shadow is the property of fellow author shadow goddess04 and is used with her permission. The rest of the Transformers and Start Trek: Next Generation belong to other people.

**Chase the Stars**

**Chapter 4: Explanations**

Ships's couselor Deanna Troi discreetly monitored Captain Picard's emotional state as the captain paced his ready room. Picard was uneasy about their visitors. Something about the silver-haired male called Ultra Rodimus gave him the creeps, and he wasn't sure what. She decided to try a generalized scan of their visitors' emotions, hoping to get something without triggering Ultra Rodimus's own minor empathic abilites. Settling herself, she closed her eyes and reached out with her mind.

Metroplex was a bright blaze of nervous excitement, pestering a resigned Mirage with questions about the scout's own experiences at being human. Perceptor she skirted around; his mind was awhirl with emotions she knew were connected with a science she would not be able to understand. Springer was quietly amused as he helped his two roommates adjust to the increased sensitivity of human senses. Groove was happily pawing through the historical records stored in the ship's databanks. First Aid was running a battery of tests on himself and his teammates, his mind a bright spark of curiousity. Hot Spot and Streetwise were curious. Blades was more nervous and seemed unable to sit still.

With all of the others accounted for, Deanna turned her attention to Ultra Rodimus and his roommates.

Sandstorm was taking things in stride, with the calm demeanor of someone who'd been around the block enough to be able to accept new experiences without panicking. Lightfoot was an energetic bundle of canine curiousity, looking forward to having some fun. And Ultra Rodimus and Magnus...

Deanna felt her face getting hot.

To her surprise, she didn't find two separate minds. Instead, she found one mind with two distinct personalities, as if two different beings had fused into one. There was a lot of love there. She inched closer and found herself caught by the emotions they were radiating. She was pulled in.

Skin sliding aginst skin, the contact moistened with sweat. Nails digging into a bronze-skinned back. A kiss, deep and passionate. A silent invitation, given and accepted. Slight shift in position.

The female Betazoid's ears burned as she felt the entry, the surge of pleasure from one part of the combined mind. Distantly she heard the soft rustle of sheets being shoved back, felt rhythmic movement accompanied by soft gasps from both. Then, before she could be pulled in any farther, a third mind surfaced, different from the other two, and dragged her out.

((I don't really think they'd appreciate you spying on them, however unintentionally,)) a tenor voice commented conversationally, and Deanna got the impression of a large, swift bird of prey speaking the mental words. ((Be glad I got you out before they noticed. Roddy really hates being spied on. He's a leader, so he values what privacy he can get.))

(Who are you?) Deanna asked.

((My name is Falcon.))

(I don't recall seeing you.)

((I'm on Ultra Rodimus's right forearm.))

(You're that growth Beverly was puzzling over?)

((I'm not a growth. You wouldn't know my race.)) The bird tilted its mental head. ((I am a skrill, a sentient being in my own right. Ultra Rodimus and I are symbionts. I take nutrition from his body and in return I help protect him. Of course, to support both of us he has to eat about three times as much as a regular humanoid. His mate teases him about his ability to pack away massive mounts of food and still manage to be so slender.))

(Mate?)

((My host and Ultra Magnus are lifemates. A bonded couple. Where one is, the other is never far away.))

(They share a very... unusual... bond.)

((They call it a lifebond. In their language, the word for it literally means 'two-made-one'. You'll have to ask them more about it, though. Now, please go before they notice your presence.))

Deanna nodded. (Thank you for getting me out of their way.)

((You are welcome.))

She returned to herself, finding Riker leaning toward her, worry in his eyes. Then she noticed the fierce blush, only beginning to fade.

"What's wrong?" Riker asked.

"I found out why Ultra Rodimus and Magnus are sharing quarters. Captain Picard doesn't have to worry about them doing anything. They're not conspirators. They're lovers."

Riker stared at her, then turned an interesting color. "Oh."

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Several hours later, the ship's command crew had assembled in the briefing room. Then their visitors began to arrive. Picard watched them sort themselves out, trying not to stare too obviously at Ultra Rodimus and his blue-haired companion. What Deanna had found out about them had given him plenty of food for thought.

The way they finally settled down gave him a few hints as to their hierarchy. Ultra Rodimus sat at the end of the table, Magnus at his shoulder and Sandstorm behind him. That indicated that he was an authority figure. The others arranged themselves into groups with a distinct social structure of their own.

Picard was about to speak when there was a sharp chirp. Springer hastily muffled a snicker as Ultra Rodimus sighed and pushed back his right sleeve to reveal the creature on his forearm. The creature's abdomen glowed briefly and it chittered what sounded like a greeting.

Beverly's jaw dropped. "It's alive?"

"Falcon is my symbiont," Ultra Rodimus replied. "My partner. He takes nutrients from me and in return he helps defend me. His kind are capable of discharging an energy burst powerful enough to completely disintegrate its target."

"Is he intelligent?"

"Sentient. He has a mind of his own, his own thoughts and feelings."

"Can he communicate with you?"

"We communicate mind-to-mind." Ultra Rodimus looked at Deanna. "He says you have a quiet mind."

Deanna blushed. "Ah..."

The silver-haired man grinned at her. "Yes, he told me. I'd already noticed you; there's not much that goes on without my notice, especially on the mental level, but I was otherwise occupied at the time. I will warn you, my mind is not the safest of places. On more than one occasion other beings have attempted to invade my mind or exert some kind of mental control. So I have a tendency to react first and ask questions later. Fights on the mental level can be more than nasty. Please ask permission the next time you intend to venture that close to my mind. I have no wish to harm you."

She nodded. "Thank you for the warning. I'll be more careful in the future."

Ultra Rodimus inclined his head slightly in acknowledgement, then looked back at Picard. "Our arrival here was not deliberate. We had no intentions of travelling; we were more interested in taking advantage of a slow day to get in some r & r."

"How did you come to be here?" Riker asked. "What was that anomaly you came through?"

"Something I've had more experience with than I'd like."

"From the data gathered it seems to be some kind of temporal anomaly," Data commented.

Emerald eyes took in his pale skin and gold eyes curiously, but Ultra Rodimus refrained from asking questions. "It was not a temporal anomaly, at least not of the kind you think. It was a tunnel, yes, but not through time. We do not exist in this universe, nor have we ever existed here."

"Then where did you come from?"

"That anomaly was a hole in the barriers between two different realities, two completely separate time lines. In our two universes events were completely different. Perceptor could tell you more about it, if you can make out anything through all the tech-talk. I would advise having a Perceptor-to-Standard dictionary handy when talking to him."

"Is he that bad?" Geordi couldn't resist asking.

Ultra Rodimus rolled his eyes. "I am of the opinion that it was not doctors but scientists who first invented the word 'gibberish'. Perceptor insists on using long, fancy words where a simpler term will suffice. Getting an explanation from him is like trying to make small talk with a walking encyclopedia."

"We've had experience with people like that." Riker glanced at Data.

Ultra Rodimus turned to Beverly. "You've got a ton of questions, I can tell. So start asking before you burst."

The doctor leaned forward. "I noticed while I was examining you that while you appear humanoid, all of you possess traits that have never been seen in any humanoid we've ever encountered. And your unusual hair colors have been a source for a great deal of discussion."

Springer grinned at that.

Ultra Rodimus leaned back in his chair. "I'm not surprised you're confused about us. We're not humanoid in nature, appearances aside. This is not at all how we really look. Our humanoid forms are simply a side effect of the dimensional rift. Hair and clothing colors correspond to our coloration in our natural forms. And our coloration can be very diverse."

"So you're not humanoid? You just look this way because passage through the rift altered your physical forms?"

"Exactly. Not only are we not humanoid, we're not even organic in nature. Our true forms are of circuits and steel, not flesh and blood."

Jaws dropped as the _Enterprise _crew digested that.

"You mean you're _mechanical?_" Geordi blurted out.

"Yes?"

"A race of androids?" Picard asked.

"Not androids. Robots. We are a race of sentient robots." Ultra Rodimus touched the red symbol on his tunic.

"What does that symbol mean?"

"This? It is the insignia of my people."

"A faction insignia?"

"Yes." Ultra Rodimus steepled his fingers. "Two factions of one race. We are called Autobots. Our race as a whole are called Cybertronians, from the planet of Cybertron."

"How does a robotic race gain sentience?" Data asked. "To be sentient you need to meet specific criteria."

"And we do meet them. We are intelligent, we have our own thoughts and emotions, we are self-aware. Actually, some of us are so self-aware it crosses the line into vanity."

"What about the other factor, reproduction?" Beverly asked.

"Most new Cybertronians are constructed on the assembly line, then are given a spark. A spark is what you would call a soul; it is the core of who we are. It is what gives us our individuality. Every spark is different; no two Cybertronians are alike. It is also possible for us to reproduce in a manner similar to organic beings, with the schematics of two individuals being used to create a third. However, it is extremely dangerous and has not been attempted in eons. It probably won't be attempted again until the current situation settles down, if it ever does."

"Situation?" Picard repeated.

Ultra Rodimus sighed. "Long story short, civil war. Two factions with very different goals fighting over resources and power."

"You mentioned another faction. Who are they."

"The Decepticons." The young man rubbed his forehead. "Okay, longer explanation. This might take a while to explain, so I hope no one has anywhere to be for a while."

There was a chorus of negatives. Ultra Rodimus made a gesture to his people, and they found places to settle along the walls. The he settled himself.

It took over an hour to tell the full tale of the Cybertronians' creation, what they had been built as and why, how they had gained sentience and driven off their enslavers, and the era of peace that followed. There was silence from the _Enterprise _crew as Ultra Rodimus described the split into factions and the outbreak of the first civil war, and everything that had happened from that era to the present, being sure to translate Cybertronian measurements of time into human time measurements. Data recorded everything Ultra Rodimus told them. It made for one massive datafile.

When he finished, there was a brief silence. Then Picard spoke up.

"You mean to have us believe that you are a large sentient robot who is over four million years old, Hot Spot and his team can merge into a larger robot, and Metroplex is a city?"

"It is the truth?"

"You didn't say anything about Sandstorm," Worf pointed out, glancing warily at the redhead.

"Of all of us, you have the least to fear from Sandstorm. He's not Cybertronian. He's from a colony on Paradron, and he is a pacifist. His people left Cybertron eons ago, when war first broke out. They did not want to be part of the fighting, so they left to avoid it."

"Then why is he here?"

"Because his homeworld no longer exists," Magnus said softly.

"Pardon?"

Ultra Rodimus's eyes held a terrible sadness. "The Decepticons found Paradron and conquered it, enslaving the people and turning the planet into a weapons factory. We drove them off, but they decided that if they couldn't have Paradron then nobody could. They planted an explosive in the core. There wasn't enough time to find and disarm it, so we began evacuating. But there were too many people and too little time. We got less than half of them out before the planet blew."

"The survivors have a small colony on Cybertron now," Magnus added. "Most of them are medics and scientists, and some chose to work with our architects. None of them are warriors."

"What about Sandstorm?"

"I was a historian and teacher of history," the redhead told them quietly. "When the Decepticons arrived I was the only one to recognize them for what they were. It was I who sent the distress call that brought the Autobots to our aid."

Deanna blinked. "But if you are not a warrior, why do you stay with one?"

"Because he saved my life," was the response.

"I don't understand."

The Autobot leader folded his arms over his chest. "Sandstorm's people have their own laws and traditions, many of which are very different from ours. One of them is their law of life-debt. Some time after our return to Cybertron with the surviving pacifists, the Deceptions struck at us. Many more pacifists were killed before we got the rest of them rounded up. Galvatron shot at Sandstorm. I pushed him out of the way, taking the shot. It almost took my head off."

"He saved my life, almost at the cost of his own," Sandstorm agreed. "By my people's law I owe him my life. I am bound to him until death claims one of us. Since I am not a warrior, I am of no use on the field of battle."

"He serves as my aide," Ultra Rodimus added. "Though he would probably dispute that. He's sort of a combination of personal attendant and secretary."

Picard looked at him. "Can you prove that you are robotic in nature?"

"Of course. I would suggest we go somewhere with a higher ceiling, though; my true form will not fit in here."

"Then let's go."

The group had just emerged onto the bridge, heading for the turbolifts, when Fate decided to deliver yet another surprise, this one much more familiar and not very welcome aboard the _Enterprise._

A flash of white caught their attention. Then Picard groaned inwardly as he heard a familiar voice, one he'd hoped not to hear.

"Well, hello again, Jean-Luc. It's been a while."

Picard glared at the tall, thin man wearing his version of a Starfleet officer's uniform. "Q."

**Tbc...**

And there is another chapter down. For those who are new to my fics, if you're curious about Sandstorm I'd suggest you read my fics "Saving Me" (the destruction of Paradron seen through Sandstorm's eyes) and "A New Life" (found near the bottom of the fic list; what happened after Paradron fell and why Sandstorm owes Ultra Rodimus a life-debt). Now send me some reviews and tell me what you think of this chapter.


	6. Trouble Strikes Twice

Author's Note: This is a lot sooner than I thought I'd be able to type this chapter; I'm dodging exams at this point. Wrote one today, got another one Friday. Woe is me... Anyway, I thought this chapter would be a weekend project. Then the plot bunny bit me from behind, and it's not letting go. Makes it rather awkward to sit down, to tell the truth...

The title might not make sense to you, so allow me to explain: Trouble tends to strike in threes. It struck once when the dimensional gate opened. This is strike two. Anyone who knows Star Trek: Next Gen can probably take a good guess at what strike three will be. Send me your guess and I'll let you know if you're close!

Disclaimer: I do not own Star Trek: Next Gen or the Transformers. Ultra Rodimus, his pet cyber-wolf Lightfoot, and his skrill Falcon are my own characters. Shadow belongs to a fellow author.

**Chase The Stars**

**Chapter 5: Trouble Strikes Twice**

Ultra Rodimus's eyes narrowed as he regarded the newcomer. "You know this twerp?"

Q glared at him. "Who do you think you're calling a twerp?" he demanded.

"Since you're the only twerp in here, I must be referring to you," Ultra Rodimus retorted.

Brown eyes blazed. "Do you have any idea who I am?"

"Do I care?" was the response.

"This has got to be a record," Springer commented softly to Riker. "They've only just met and already the boss doesn't like him. Usually it takes a bit longer before Ultra Roddy decides he hates a person's guts. So, who is this guy?"

"Q is a nuisance who seems to like driving us crazy," Riker replied.

"This pest's name is Q? Does that mean the rest of the alphabet is floating around here somewhere?" A silver eyebrow went up.

"All of his kind are named Q," Picard told him. "They call themselves the Q Continuum. Supposedly they are omnipotent and very powerful. We actually know very little about them. This particular Q has been pestering us for years."

"Him, omnipotent?" Ultra Rodimus snorted. "Ha!"

Q's brown eyes were almost glowing with his rising temper. "I'll have you know that it is true!"

Ultra Rodimus waved a dismissive hand. "Save it for someone who hasn't walked with gods, Q. Why don't you just run along now. Shoo."

Q's teeth ground loudly. He was clearly only seconds away from losing it completely. Almost crackling with anger, he took a step toward Ultra Rodimus.

When the group had vanished into the briefing room, Ultra Rodimus's pet wolf, who had a dislike for boring conferences and meetings, had been napping in the captain's chair, much to the amusement of the crew. Now he raised his head, ears going back. While he was a pet, Lightfoot was descended from an ancient line of guard dogs, and he was intensely loyal to his master. So when he saw his beloved master being threatened, he was out of the chair in a flash, darting forward to sink his fangs into any part of the Enemy that he could reach. And since he was coming from behind Q, he hit a particularly sensitive spot.

The irritating alien let out a deafening screech as sharp fangs bit deep into his rear end. Lightfoot bit hard and clung, shaking his head about like a terrier with a rat. Most of the bridge crew and most of the Autobots burst out laughing.

Finally, Q managed to shake the canine loose. Enraged, he lashed out with a bolt of power. With a hideous yelp, Lightfoot was hurled across the bridge. He slammed into the wall and collapsed in a heap. Magnus and Sandstorm ran over.

Ultra Rodimus let out a furious roar and launched himself at Q, eyes blazing with pure rage. In mid-leap he shifted back to his true form, his lithe body uncoiling with stunning speed. Q found himself snatched off the deck and slammed into the wall so hard he created a Q-shaped indentation. The force would have crushed any normal mortal. It couldn't kill Q, but it was hard enough to force the wind out of him and make him see stars for a long moment.

His vision finally cleared, and he found himself pinned against the wall by a hand larger than his entire body. That hand belonged to the creature managing to crouch in the middle of the bridge, almost 85 feet of pure power wrapped in steel. Blazing green eyes fixed him with a murderous glare. Lips drew back from steel teeth in a soundless snarl.

"You hurt my dog," the huge shape snarled in a subterranian rumble that seemed to originate somewhere in his gut. "And that is a _mistake." _

"Get your hands off me," Q gasped out.

Muscle cables rippled visibly beneath armored metal skin. Ultra Rodimus threw his weight forward, driving Q even deeper into the abused bulkhead. The pressure threatened to crush even him. Ultra Rodimus's eyes were beginning to turn red, a sure sign of the berserker that lurked close beneath the surface. "_Nobody hurts my dog and gets away with it!"_

Magnus sighed, shaking his head. "Bad move, Q. Ultra Rodimus's priorities are deeply set: his people, his pet, and then himself. Threaten any one of us, he won't get so irritable; he knows we can handle ourselves. But threaten his pet and he turns vicious. The surest way to piss him off is to mess with Lightfoot."

Q attempted to teleport himself out from under Ultra Rodimus's hand, but something stirred within that steel form, and it kept Q trapped. He changed his tactics and fired an energy bolt at Ultra Rodimus's eyes.

Within Ultra Rodimus's body, the Matrix was very aware of what was going on. It shared its bearer's opinion of Q. Primus, who was very fond of Lightfoot, was barely keeping his temper in check. But when Q struck at his chosen, he struck back.

The power-bolt impacted against a barrier of blue-green light, light that seemed to be radiating out from beneath Ultra Rodimus's skin. Aquamarine lightning crackled across Ultra Rodimus's body, lashing down his arm to smash right into Q's chest. It seared through him, swatting his own power aside like a mosquito. That power far surpassed his. For the first time, Q realised that he'd tangled with the wrong person; he was in way over his head.

"Primus doesn't like him either." Magnus shrugged. "No surprise there. You really stepped in it this time, Q. Ultra Rodimus commands the power of a true deity; he's the only mortal ever to kill a god. Of all the people you could have chosen to piss off, you had to pick the worst one."

Real fear shot through Q. Ultra Rodimus leaned closer, pinning Q with his stare.

"If I ever catch you or any of your kind in my poresence again, I will kill you," he hissed. Then he yanked Q away from the wall, flicked him into the air, and delivered a forehand swat that would have done a professional volleyball player proud. Q hit the wall headfirst, lay in a stunned heap for a long moment, then vanished in a burst of white light.

The _Enterprise _crew stared, stunned, at the metal behemoth occupying most of the bridge. The ceiling was too low for him to stand upright, but he could fit himself into amazingly tight spaces, so the bridge of the starship was no real problem. Ultra Rodimus remained still for a moment, visibly struggling to rein in his temper. Then his form began to shrink and compact as he morphed back to his human form. Spine as stiff as a pole, he stalked over to where Sandstorm was holding a groggy Lightfoot. The pacifist looked up at him.

"He needs to see a vet," Sandstorm told him quietly.

Picard promptly contacted the transporter room and had Sandstorm and Lightfoot beamed to the vet's office. Ultra Rodimus turned to face him, eyes still ice-cold. Magnus laid a hand on his shoulder and Ultra Rodimus relaxed slightly.

"I will not answer any more questions until I know Lightfoot's condition," he stated, and his tone left no room for argument. Picard nodded slightly and led the Autobot leader and his mate to the turbolift.

**Tbc...**

I know, it's short. And I did say that Q was going to get it. Now tell me what you think. The next chapter will be delayed because of exams, but that can't be helped. Now send me reviews!


	7. Training and Preparing

Author's Note: Here I am; please don't hurt me! Sorry for leaving you in suspense, but I had exams to finish. I also had to wrangle the plot bunnies into the corral so I could sort out which belong to this chapter and which don't. They were not cooperating, so it wasn't easy, believe me.

This chapter also gives the answer to what the last, worst trouble will be. So please don't pop from curiousity.

Disclaimer: Only the characters of Ultra Rodimus, Lightfoot, and Falcon belong to me. Shadow belongs to a fellow author and is used with permission. Star Trek: Next Generation and the Transformers belong to really rich people.

**Chase the Stars**

**Chapter 6: Training and Preparing**

A day after Q's arrival (and departure), the _Enterprise _crew and the Autobots once again convened, this time in Captain Picard's ready room. The Autobots were standing or sitting along the wall. Ultra Rodimus sat on the couch, Lightfoot's head in his lap, stroking his pet's soft fur. Picard sat at his desk. The others had brought chairs, and most of them were gathered around the desk. The exception was Data, who had gotten into an animated discussion with Perceptor, involving a heap of tech specs, diagrams, and other bits of tech. The shop talk was flying hard and fast.

"Geeks," Springer muttered.

"If those two ever got near Perceptor's lab we'd never see them again," Magnus observed.

Shadow shifted position slightly, her wings rustling. "Why is it that no scientist or engineer can speak in plain English? Do they always have to use those big, long, fancy words that the rest of us can't understand?"

"Apparently," Hot Spot responded with a chuckle.

Ultra Rodimus rolled his eyes, then looked back at Picard. "Now you have seen me in my real form. Believe me now?"

"Somewhat," Picard answered. He tilted his head. "I could not help but notice that your outer skin looked thicker than I would expect of a robotic life form."

"You mean my exo-armor. It has to be thick. And very durable."

"You are warriors, then," Worf jumped in.

"We are, yes. Because we have to be. Most of us are actually scientists, explorers, and civilians by nature; very few of us were actually built for warfare. If we'd had a choice then none of us would have had to take up a weapon. Unfortunately, we had no such choice. The Decepticons began a war to seize control of our homeworld. We were driven almost to extinction and had no choice but to fight back."

Picard leaned forward. "And now?"

"All new Autobots are built for combat," Magnus replied. "Most of us are warriors. Perceptor, First Aid, Groove, and Sandstorm are the exceptions. The rest of us were built to fight, especially Ultra Rodimus. While he'd rather not fight if it can be avoided, he's among the most powerful warriors we have."

The starship captain rubbed his forehead. "When I was hoping for something to happen this is not what I had in mind," he muttered.

Ultra Rodimus's eyebrows went up. "You _wished _for something to happen? You know what they say: 'be careful what you wish for...'"

"Indeed. 'You might get it.'"

"If I recall correctly, the phrase 'may you live in interesting times' is considered a very potent curse." Ultra Rodimus tilted his head slightly, leaning back. "Now things are starting to make sense."

"How so?"

"You asked for trouble, and in my experience trouble seems to come in threes. First, we ended up on your ship. Second, Q showed up. That leaves one more opening."

Riker leaned forward. "What might it be?"

A silver eyebrow rose. "You're asking me? I'm new to this dimension; how am I supposed to know? It will most likely be something from this dimension, so it will be something none of us have ever seen. My advice would be to think of the worst thing you can and prepare for that."

There was a moment of silence as the humans and humanoids wracked their brains for ideas. Then Picard inhaled sharply, and all eyes turned to him.

Picard had gone white. He gripped the edge of his desk so hard his knuckles were white.

"Captain?" Troi touched his arm.

"Oh, no," Picard whispered, not even noticing her. "Not them. Please, let it not be them..."

Then he was up out of his chair and through the door onto the bridge. Ice ran down Riker's spine as he realized what Picard was thinking of.

"Care to enlighten us?" Ultra Rodimus asked, looking at them expectantly.

The crewmembers exchanged glances. Then Riker sighed and began to explain to the Autobots everything they knew about a race known as the Borg.

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Several hours later the Autobots (with the exception of Sandstorm, who was with Lightfoot in the quarters he, Ultra Rodimus, and Magnus shared) had taken over an empty cargo bay and turned it into a training arena. Magnus, the D.I., was overseeing the others as they sparred. Perceptor had set up energy fields to catch any stray laser blasts from the makeshift rifle range. The city commander, who knew everything his mate knew about the process of morphing from human to robot and back, was also in charge of teaching them how to morph. All of them had caught on quickly. Ultra Rodimus had taken on a different project.

He was teaching Shadow how to fly.

The Autobot leader had morphed to his robot form, shrank down to human size (a trick he'd mastered some time ago), and transformed to his thunderbird mode. Shadow was slowly getting the hang of it, or at least figuring out how to get her wings to do what she wanted. She had yet to get off the ground.

"Jussst take it easssy," he advised, the hooked beak of his bird form slurring the words. "Push yourrrssself too harrrd and yourrr wing musssclesss will hurrrt forrr daysss."

"You learned that the hard way, I take it," she grunted, trying to synchronize her wingbeats instead of flailing all over the place.

He nodded, watching carefully as she finally managed to get her wings to beat at the same time. She flapped harder and actually rose off the ground. At a height of five feet, however, her concentration slipped and she landed in a heap. Cursing, she climbed back to her feet.

By the time Ultra Rodimus decided she'd done enough for one day, she was managing to make short flights. Unfortunately, landing was still the tricky part, as was maneuvering. She had plenty of bruises from flying into things and crashing when she tried to land.

After another two hours of training, Magnus decided to quit for the day. The other Autobots dragged themselves back to their quarters to clean up, eat, and rest. Some, Ultra Rodimus and Magnus included, paused in the corridor outside the training arena to talk with Picard and some of his officers/security staff, who'd been watching the training. Ultra Rodimus counted heads and came up two short: Mirage and Shadow. He was about to comment on that when an angry screech from the arena interrupted him.

The conversation instantly stopped. Everyone turned back toward the doors. Shadow's angry yells could be clearly heard, as could the sound of Mirage howling in fear and a large number of thuds and crashes.

Ultra Rodimus sighed heavily, face in hand, and muttered something under his breath.

"What?" Picard looked at him.

"Mirage might be the best at scouting and infiltration, but when it comes to females he is utterly hopeless," was the response. Ultra Rodimus shook his head and pounded his fist twice on the closed door. "Let him live, Shadow!"

There was a moment of complete silence from inside. Then the door hissed open. Shadow, her spine as stiff as a pole, eyes blazing with rage, radiating the clear warning "touch and die" from every line of her body, stormed out. The raging thunderstorm hovering over her head was almost visible.

Autobots and _Enterprise _crewmembers scattered out of her way as she stalked down the corridor and out of sight. No one dared say a word until well after she was out of earshot.

The first person to come out of his stunned trance was Ultra Rodimus. He looked into the arena, then turned to the others. "First Aid, would you mind scraping what's left of Mirage off the floor and seeing what you can salvage?"

"On it." The medic walked past him and into the arena.

"Springer, Arcee."

"Here." The two stepped forward.

"When Mirage is relatively coherent again, you two have a talk with him."

"Why us?" Arcee asked.

"Because Springer successfully courted you, so he know the do's and don't's of dealing with females. You, being female, know what females look for in males, what they will and won't take, and what's really stupid to say to a female. So you two can give him a few pointers and hopefully keep him from getting himself scrapped next time."

They nodded, then went after First Aid. Ultra Rodimus took another look into the arena.

"There goes our repair budget," he muttered as he walked away.

**Tbc...**

And there's another one down. Next time: warning signs and dodging a pissed-off Shadow. Now send me some reviews and let me know what you think!


	8. Warning Signs

Author's Note: This update is coming a little sooner than I thought it would. This story now has the most hits of any fic I've written so far, almost 1900. And that's a lot of hits. Thank you to everyone who's reading my story!

I forgot to mention this in the fist chapter: this fic is part of a series. It takes place a few months after "Snow Days" ends. Anyone who's interested in the rest of the series can find a list of all the stories it includes in my author profile.

Disclaimer: I say it every chapter; if you don't know by now then you have a short in your memory circuits.

**Chase the Stars**

**Chapter 7: Warning Signs**

Two days had passed since Shadow's temper flare, and the crew of the _USS Enterprise _were still walking on eggshells around her. Mirage, who'd been released from Sickbay after having more than a few broken bones put back together, seemed to have gone into hiding. Very little had been seen of him in over a day; he only came out for training and then only when Shadow had already left. Picard thought that a wise course of action, especially considering the enormous grudge Shadow held against the scout.

Picard looked up as the turbolift door hissed open and saw Ultra Rodimus emerge. The Autobot leader was carrying his tunic over one shoulder. From the faint sheen of moisture covering his skin, he'd just come out of a training session. There was no doubt in Picard's mind that he'd had a swarm of female crewmembers following him from the training arena to the turbolift.

"I did," Ultra Rodimus told him, as if reading his thoughts. "But they knew enough to keep their distance and I'm used to being leered at."

"What does Magnus think of all the attention you're getting?" Riker asked.

"He thinks it's hilarious." The young man leaned on the edge of the curved rail leading to the upper level of the bridge.

"I would've thought you'd be down with the rest of your people," Picard commented.

Ultra Rodimus snorted. "Even I have my limits, and tech-talk is one of them. Perceptor and First Aid are going through your files and their arsenals, trying to decide what will work and what won't. They'd like Data to join them."

The android looked at Picard, who nodded to him. A waiting crewmember took his post as Data headed for the turbolift.

"They're down in Cargo Bay Two," Ultra Rodimus called after him.

"Why there?" Worf wondered.

"One of my alternate modes is a tractor-trailer, a cargo transport vehicle. The trailer section is an armory on wheels. The datafiles noted that you don't have many weapons still effective against the Borg, so they decided to try some of our own weapons. I left my trailer with them, and Perceptor set up energy barriers to catch any stray discharges."

Catching a glimpse of something red, Riker craned his neck to look at Ultra Rodimus's back. "What's that?"

"This?" Ultra Rodimus turned slightly to reveal an intricate spiral marking on the back of his right shoulder. "It's a tattoo. Magnus got it for me. I didn't know about it until a couple of hours later."

"How could you not have noticed?" Troi asked curiously.

"_I _was sleeping, _he _was plotting. He saw to it that I remained asleep all through the tattooing process. Payback for all of the pranks I've played on him."

"You play tricks?"

Ultra Rodimus laughed. "Yes, I do. By my race's standards I'm only about 17 years of age, the youngest bot ever to become Prime. I do have a streak of prankster in me, and occasionally it comes to the surface. Magnus usually ends up being my target. But then I have to watch out for retaliation."

"So Prime is a rank, not a name?" Picard asked.

"It's an honorific, I guess you could say, given to the leader of the Autobot faction. It's derived from Primus, our god and creator. I inherited the title from my predecessor when I became Autobot leader."

"He stepped down?"

"No. He died. The mantle of leadership only changes hands when the old leader dies."

"Magnus said that you're the only mortal ever to kill a god," Picard said. "Was that Primus?"

"Hell, no. Primus created us. It was Unicron I killed, and I didn't do it alone."

"Unicron?"

"The dark god of chaos and destruction." Ultra Rodimus's eyes flashed. Then he told them about Unicron's attack and how he had been destroyed.

"No wonder you weren't impressed by Q," Riker commented.

Troi looked up at Ultra Rodimus. "May I ask you a question?"

"Certainly."

"What exactly is the nature of the relationship between you and Magnus?"

The young Autobot shifted position, crossing his legs. "He's always been a good friend of mine, and when I became Prime he was my advisor and second-in-command. He looked out for me when I was still a young hothead who thought I was invincible. We've always been close. A few years ago, we ended up lifebonding. Since then he's been my lover. Why do you ask?"

"When I inadvertantly touched your thoughts I sensed one mind with two personalities instead of two separate minds."

"That's because we are one. A lifebond is a merging of minds, of souls, binding us to one another. Each of us is one half of a whole. We complete each other. Feelings and thoughts are shared between us; it is practically impossible to keep a secret. Our relationship is so tight it excludes all others; there's no room in our lives for anyone else anymore, except as a friend. That's one reason he and I decided to go all the way and become a formally bonded couple. It let everyone else know that I'm off limits, and gave us the excuse we needed to share quarters without starting all sorts of rumors." Ultra Rodimus touched the ring he wore on his right hand, a band of silver engraved with delicate designs and set with three stones.

Riker glanced at the turbolift. "Is Shadow still on the rampage?"

Ultra Rodimus chuckled. "No."

"So she's finally gotten over her grudge?"

"I didn't say that. I just said she wasn't stalking the corridors anymore."

"Then where is she?"

"She somehow found her way to the holodeck and discovered some very interesting programs. I think they're yours, Worf." The Prime looked up at the security officer.

Riker groaned. He knew all about Worf's Klingon exercise programs. They usually involved a lot of bloodthirsty Klingons with weapons and were normally set in any number of nasty terrain.

"And what does she think of them?" Worf asked.

"Last I heard she was having a great time beating the holy hell out of the holo-characters. I'm just glad that she's found a way to work off her aggression before she takes it out on anyone else."

Worf stared at him. "That female is defeating Klingon warriors?"

"As I stated when we first woke up, Shadow is not a female to be underestimated. Despite her gender, she can whip just about any male in the army. If you don't believe me, take a look for yourself."

Picard typed a command into the small control panel on the arm of his chair. An image of what was going on in the holodeck appeared on the screen.

Bodies lay everywhere, some in pools of liquid, some groaning and starting to pick themselves back up. More Klingons were coming in from all directions, carrying blades of all sorts, from daggers all the way up to bat'leths, homing in on the blur of movement that was Shadow. Armed with a sword of her own, a curved blade similar to a katana, she was tearing through the holo-Klingons like a hot knife through butter. The setting, a rocky, treacherous plain on the flanks of an active volcano, didn't seem to bother her in the slightest.

Worf's jaw dropped.

"Told you," Ultra Rodimus commented.

Riker blinked rapidly. "That is one female I would not want to get on the bad side of."

"Then make sure you don't say anything that could possibly be taken as rude, sexist, insulting, or demeaning, in any way, shape, or form, while in her presence. Mirage made that mistake, and you know what happened to him." Ultra Rodimus looked at Picard. "So, have you heard anything?"

"Pardon?"

"From Starfleet. You did send them warning, did you not?"

Picard sighed. "Rumors have started to come in of cube ships, three of them, but so far there's been no concrete evidence of Borg activity. We've been ordered to investigate."

Ultra Rodimus considered that, then rose from his perch. "Then I'd better get back to the others and see how they're faring in the weapons department. Later." He walked up the ramp and vanished into the turbolift.

The captain watched him go, hoping that the Autobots would find something to use against the Borg, something that would stop them before they did too much damage. And keep from being assimilated themselves.

**Tbc...**

And there's another chapter out for the masses. Thanks to Lunatic Pandora1 for the website with all of the info about the Borg and the other races of the Star Trek universe, as well as for the pointing out of strengths and weaknesses. Your help is greatly appreciated. Now send me some reviews and we'll see how quickly the next chapter can be posted!


	9. Call to Arms

Author's Note: Took me long enough to update, didn't it. Sorry 'bout that. The plot bunnies got loose and I had to round them all up again. Nothing like a horde of plot bunnies running loose through your head to make you lose your train of thought. So blame the delay on them, not on me.

I don't think this chapter will be all that long, but it's a lead-in to the confrontation with the Borg. Just to keep you glued to your computers and take this fic past the 2400 hits mark. I didn't think this fic would be that popular, though; thanks for proving otherwise. So don't go buggering off on me now; this fic still has a ways to go yet.

Disclaimer: See previous chapters.

**Chase the Stars**

**Chapter 8: Call To Arms**

After spending several hours attempting to get some sleep (attempting being the key word), Picard decided to drop by the makeshift armory and see if the Autobots had made any progress in finding weapons to use against the Borg. As he walked, he ran through a few possibilities in his head. Not many weapons he knew of would be of any use, but the Autobots had been around a lot longer and should therefore have some weapons he'd never even considered.

It turned out he was right.

The cargo bay no longer looked like a cargo bay. It had turned into a full armory-slash-weapons range. A long trailer, the rear part of a very large tractor-trailer truck, stood off to one side, by a wall. About half of the bay was taken up by long tables, upon which lay an astonishingly large assortment of weapons. Almost all of them were of a sleek alien design, some of them appearing almost useless to his eyes. But he was prepared to give them the benefit of the doubt.

Making his way past a group of gawking security personnel, he walked over to Ultra Rodimus.

"It seems that you've had some luck," he observed.

Ultra Rodimus nodded. "Yes, we have. Perceptor thinks that most of our weapons should work, with a few exceptions. Since the Borg are highly adaptive to energy weapons, standard laser rifles are out, but we have come up with some interesting alternatives. Like this one." He picked up a weapon that looked like an old-fashioned shotgun. Picard eyed it. "I noticed from your files that one thing you never tried was solid projectile weaponry, so Perceptor ran some simulations. These should prove highly effective."

"What is it?"

"This?" Ultra Rodimus hefted the weapon, then turned toward the firing range and took aim at one of the targets, a simulated Borg. Taking aim, he pulled the trigger.

The shot sounded like several in rapid succession, as if he'd fired a machine gun. Picard couldn't see any evidence of a projectile leaving the barrel, but the response clearly told him that the weapon was loaded. The simulated Borg's torso was shredded, the damage covering the entire abdomen, blowing it almost in half. A quick series of flashes from the energy field indicated that the projectiles were powerful enough to pass right through anything it hit, and they would spread out to hit several targets at once, like a shotgun shell. But no bullet could do damage like that.

"This is a flechette rifle. The cartridges are loaded with these instead of bullets." The young Prime held up one hand, a tiny dart, less than a centimeter long, gripped carefully between his index finger and his thumb. "The blades have monomolecular edges-- edges only a single molecule thick. They leave the barrel about four times faster than a bullet, and anything they hit will be shredded. Believe me, this is not a weapon you'd want to find yourself on the business end of." He subspaced the dart and put the safety back on the rifle, returning it to its place. "We also have shrapnel guns, shrapnel needle shells, acid pellets, concussion cannons, a full arsenal of sonic weaponry, plasma and particle weapons, some good old-fashioned blast weapons, and I think Perceptor's building a fusion bomb. Data mentioned plasma coolant for liquifying organic material, and Perceptor is also working on ways to make that into a weapon. He's thinking about combining it with a concussion rifle, or something like that."

Picard blinked. "Concussion rifles?"

"They fire blasts of compressed air, delivering a blow of over 20,000 psi. Anything hit will be crushed instantly."

"You mentioned sonic weaponry. How useful would they be?"

The silver-haired bot snorted. "Plenty. Too much sound can overload circuitry, and certain tones can disrupt anything mechanical. You're aware that loud noise can damage organic material; a shot from one of our sonic weapons can do a lot worse than blowing eardrums."

The captain wandered over to another table, looking at the assortment of weapons on it. "And these?"

"Rust rifles, vibro-weapons, even a few glue guns."

Picard stared at him "_Glue _guns?"

Ultra Rodimus grinned. "Yes, glue guns. Sets instantly, impossible to break or dissolve. Anything caught in it isn't getting away. All of these weapons have been used before, so trust us. We know what we're doing."

"You are using some of the most unusual weapons I've ever encountered," Picard told him.

The Prime laughed. "As I explained to you, we're not warriors by nature. We're scientists, explorers, architects, civilians. When the wars began, the Decepticons had us at a severe disadvantage because they were built as military machines and we weren't. So we went another way. Because we couldn't operate like warriors, we raised improvisation to an art form. We can do more in a short amount of time than you'd think."

"So I see." Picard looked at another table. "Are those blades?"

"Yes, they are. Our wars aren't limited to just shooting at each other from a distance. There's a considerable amount of hand-to-hand that goes on as well. We even have our own distinct forms of martial arts. Quite a few of us use blades. Like Springer. He uses a broadsword. And Blades uses his rotors the same way. My preferred weapon is a two-bladed battleaxe, but I can handle a sword."

"And that?" Picard pointed at a longbow and quiver of arrows.

"Don't be fooled by appearances. Those are mine; I'm a fairly decent archer. Not the best in the universe, but pretty good. The arrowheads contain tiny antimatter charges. So as soon as they hit their target... boom."

Picard blinked, surprised. "Methinks I should know better than to underestimate your people."

"Good idea," Ultra Rodimus agreed. "We've been fighting since before man was swinging in the trees; we know lots of tricks."

"I'm beginning to realize that." Picard took one more look at the rows of weapons laid out on the tables, then returned to his quarters. This time he managed to get a few hours' sleep.

Two days later, the _Enterprise _received word that Borg activity had been confirmed, and Starfleet Command ordered them to investigate. The whole ship was on edge, and the Autobots began finalizing their battle plans. Finally, the sensors picked up signs of Borg.

"All stop," Picard ordered. "On screen."

The main viewscreen blinked on.

Three Borg cubes hovered ominously over what had been one of Starfleet's most distant space stations. Now it was a hideous mix of Starfleet and Borg as the assimilation progressed. The sensors showed only Borg life signs.

Ultra Rodimus's eyes narrowed as he regarded the image. "So those are Borg ships, huh? Ugliest things I've ever seen."

"They may be simple in design, but they are extremely efficient," Picard warned.

"So your records indicated." Ultra Rodimus thought for a moment. "Have they detected us?"

"Not that I can tell," Worf replied.

The Autobot leader nodded once, then activated his internal comlink. "Okay, Autobots, saddle up. Time to go to work."

**Tbc...**

Nine chapters down (including the prologue), and Primus only knows how many more there are to be written. I will tell you this: it ain't over, not by a long shot. Now send me some reviews and I'll see if I can pry another update out of the plot bunnies.


	10. Strike

Author's Note: I apologize for the delay in getting this chapter out, but battle scenes always take me a bit longer to plot out, and I ran into a bit of writer's block during the process. So blame the delay on the block, not on me.

Disclaimer: I think you get the hint.

**Chase the Stars**

**Chapter 9: Strike**

Eleven Autobots met their leader in the _Enterprise_'s shuttle bay, already morphing back to their own robotic forms. Only Metroplex and Sandstorm remained in their human bodies. Metroplex was too big as a robot to engage in the close combat the others would be getting into, but knew he'd be called into action eventually. He stood by the wall, watching the others preparing their weapons. Sandstorm, being a pacifist, would not be participating in the fighting at all.

Ultra Rodimus glanced at him, noting the unhappy look on his face. The young Autobot leader walked over, crouching down to speak with him. "I apologize for not including you in the main assault force, Metroplex, but you will have the opportunity to destroy something before the battle is over. You're the only one among us who can destroy an entire cube ship with one attack, so you'll be backing us up if anything happens. You're our last line of defense."

The city-bot brightened at that, blue eyes glowing with eagerness. Ultra Rodimus grinned at him, then rose and headed back to the others.

"Autobots, to battle!"

They approached the Borg ships and the Borg-infested station from the side, pretending to be bits of space debris until the Borg sensors got a lock on them. They managed to get closer than anticipated before the three cubes began powering up their weapons.

"Now!"

Immediately, all of the Autobots swerved and descended upon the station. Sizzling bolts of raw energy tore gaping holes in the station's hull. Spreading out, the Autobots shot through the holes, vanishing from sight.

"Why are they going in?" Riker wondered, staring at the viewscreen.

"Becasue they know from your records that Borg ships and Borg-infested ships can regenerate," Metroplex responded over the commline. "They want to do as much damage as possible while limiting the chances for regeneration. While we try our hardest not to get into a situation that calls for or causes a large amount of collateral damage, when we do get into those situations, you wouldn't believe the amount of damage we can cause."

"Look!"

An entire row of windows along one side of the station blew out, belching flame. Atmosphere began rushing out, sucking everything around the holes out into space. Borg drones were dark spots against the pale hull as dozens were ripped out of the station. Slowly, ever so slowly, the holes closed again, but not before several dozen Borg drones had frozen to death in the extreme cold of open space.

Inside the station, the fighting was intense. The Cybertronians had gotten split up somewhere along the line, and they were scattered through the station. Some were making their way toward the Borg ships still docked. Their paths, usually carpeted with Borg bits, were fairly easy to spot. And, in the Autobot Prime's case, very hazardous to follow.

The young Prime had armed himself with an acid pellet rifle, which was a specialized type of energy/projectile weapon. Instead of firing just energy bolts of just projectiles, that rifle fired both. The current ammo load was a combination of plasma and an extremely powerful acid called difluorine, which Perceptor had discovered during one of his experiments. Anything hit by those projectiles was instantly reduced to a sizzling pool of goop, which then ate into everything it touched. Ultra Rodimus was leaving a path of melted deck behind him, and any Borg trying to follow it fell prey to the acid.

Ultra Rodimus ducked down another corridor and found himself in a fair-sized chamber. And what he saw there froze him in his tracks with horror.

The room had once been a recretion lounge. The Borg had turned it into the place where they completed assimilating new victims, cutting off parts of their bodies and replacing them with cybernetics. Blood stained the floors, and the stench of rotting flesh, from the parts that had been cut off, hung thick in their air. Hair-raising screams rose from somewhere in that chamber.

Inside the young Prime, the Matrix stirred.

The sparks contained within had been alerted by the horror coming from the Matrix Bearer and had made their way to the crystal's exposed face to see what was making him so horrified. When they saw what he was looking at, their horror surpassed even his. And when they saw a terrified, half-assimilated child being cut apart, tears running down her face, that horror quickly transformed itself into rage.

Dozens of Borg drones flowed toward the young Prime. He didn't even look at them. His body was flaring with power, surrounded in an aura of blue-green fire as the Matrix came awake. His eyes were glowing so brightly that the whites and pupils were drowned out by the green of his irises. Then his back arched, and the Matrix erupted with power.

The flash almost blinded the watching _Enterprise _crew. The viewscreen automatically compensated for the brilliance, but everyone on the bridge (with the exception of Data), had to blink flash spots from their eyes before they could see again. When they could see clearly again, they stared.

Blue-green flame was consuming the entire station, engulfing it in the grip of a power the ship's sensors almost burned out trying to register. Two of the three cubes had pulled away from the station, but the third, closest to the source of the strange fire, wasn't quick enough and fell prey to it. A terrific explosion lit up the dark of space as the station and the cube detonated.

"I guess even Primus hates the Borg," Metroplex mused. "That was the Matrix."

"The same thing that struck at Q?" Picard asked.

"The one and the same."

"There's something I don't get," Riker commented. "You said that power was the Matrix, and that it was Primus. That makes no sense."

"You'll have to get all the details from Ultra Rodimus, but the basic explanation is that Primus is inside the Matrix," Metroplex told them. "Now, let's concentrate on what's happening now. You can pester Prime for details later."

On the viewscreen, the blue-green glow was beginning to fade. When it finally cleared, the station and one of the cubes were gone. A shape surrounded by a faint aquamarine aura flew toward another cube, vanishing inside.

"There he goes."

Inside the cube, the battle was still raging. Most of the fighters had gotten sepaprated and were spread throughout the cube. The Protectobots had managed to remain together and were fighting as a group, watching each other's backs.

"Eat scrap!" Blades snarled, ripping off another barrage from his shrapnel rifle. About half a dozen drones were ripped to shreds, and about a dozen more were severely damaged but still continued to advance.

"They just keep coming!" Hot Spot took aim at another clump of Borg trying to approach and dispatched them with one shot from his fireball cannon. The searing heat vaporized the closest drones, incinerating anything organic and reducing the mechanical components to molten slag.

"The _Enterprise_'s files did say they were persistent," Groove quipped, brandishing his borrowed concussion rifle. The bursts of compressed air, delivering a force of over 20,000 psi to whatever they hit, had already smeared more than a few drones across the bulkheads. The sonic weapons had proved almost useless and had been abandoned.

Reluctantly, First Aid shouldered the grenade launcher he'd been given and fired several of the shells that Perceptor had put together, carrying a load of plasma coolant instead of the traditional explosive, down the corridor into the midst of a mass of drones. The medic hated war, hated fighting, but he did what he had to do.

The Autobot comm band crackled to life. "The station and one of the cubes are space dust," Ultra Rodimus informed the others. "We'll take down this cube. 'Plex, think you can handle the last one before it takes off?"

The others could hear the feral grin Metroplex sported in his response. "With pleasure."

Beginning his morph back to his robot body, Metroplex launched himself out of the shuttle bay. The instant he cleared the ship, the change went into hyperdrive. Within thirty seconds Metroplex was back in his true form.

Picard barely managed to keep his jaw from dropping open in pure shock.

He'd heard that Metroplex was big, but hadn't really believed it. Now he was seeing the proof with his own tow eyes, watching as the giant steel behemoth moved toward his target.

"Now that's a big robot," Riker commented, sounding as stunned as Picard felt.

"Not one I'd want to get on the wrong side of," the captain said in response, and Riker grunted his agreement.

The cube, noticing the huge robot coming in its direction, began to move away. It didn't get very far. Metroplex's entire arsenal opened fire on it all at once. Over a dozen energy beams and missiles smashed into the cube, shattering the hull. If that had been the only damage, the ship could have repaired itself very quickly, but no less than half a dozen of those energy beams scored direct hits on the engines. The result was a terrific explosion.

A satisfied smile touched Metroplex's face. "I handled it."

Ultra Rodimus chuckled. "That you did. Hang around a while, would you? Things are getting a bit hairy over here."

"Will do." Metroplex headed back toward the _Enterprise, _choosing to perch on the ship's "back", between the warp nacelles, to wait.

Ultra Magnus was fighting his way toward the Protectobots when Springer appeared, dashing down the corridor with Arcee clutched to his chest. Magnus's sharp eyes instantly spotted the telltale puncture marks on the female's upper arm; a Borg had gotten close enough to inject its nanites into her.

"Get her back to the _Enterprise_!" Magnus ordered before Springer could say anything. The triple changer nodded and raced past, heading for the outer hull. Magnus contacted the starship. "_Enterprise, _we have wounded incoming!"

"We'll be ready," was the response.

In another part of the ship, Shadow was fighting with all of her ability, but the situation wasn't looking good. She was completely surrounded by Borg drones. The shreded remains of other drones carpeted the corridor, but still they came. She was about to call for help when she felt a searing pain in her right forearm. Looking down, she saw a pasty-white hand inches from her arm, two writhing black tubes emerging from the back of it and sticking into her flesh. She blew the Borg away and ripped the tubes loose, but it was already too late.

A shriek echoed down the corridor. An intense blast of compressed air cleared one corridor, covering the walls with crushed Borg. Mirage shimmered into view, face twisted into a snarl of rage. He grabbed the staggering female, holding her close, and turned the full fury of his concussion cannon on any other Borg drone he saw. Then he reengaged his cloaking device and dashed away, thinking only of getting Shadow to safety.

Deep in the bowels of the ship, Ultra Rodimus's eyes blazed with rage as the report reached him. The Autobot leader was in his robot form, shrunked down to human size, and he was using his full arsenal against the drones coming toward him. Something inside him twisted, and he suddenly transformed. A part of his mind registered that the form he'd transformed into was an unfamiliar one, but that fact didn't register with the rest of his mind.

With a furious roar, he pounced.

Razor-sharp claws tore into anything within reach. His armor blocked all attempts by the Borg to inject their nanites into him. He tore through them like a hot knife through butter.

"Fall back!" he roared into his comlink. "Back to the _Enterprise_! Metroplex, once we're all off this thing, blow it back to the Inferno!"

The others were heading for the hull as fast as they could when Ultra Rodimus met up with them. They shot startled glances at him, surprised to find a robotic feline, armor smeared with biological and mechanical fluids, in their midst. Then they reached the hull, blew a hole in it, and evacuated. The instant they were a safe distance away from the cube, Metroplex struck. Behind them space erupted with a silent fireball as the Borg ship blew.

**Tbc...**

And that's another chapter. Sorry about having to hurt Shadow, but please don't bite my head off yet. Just wait for the next chapter to appear before you start reading me the riot act. The next chapter should be coming out fairly soon. Now send me some reviews and I'll get to work on it!


	11. New Problems

Author's Note: The plot bunny for this chapter has been driving me up the wall and through the roof for the last month, and I finally gave in. That's why this update is coming so quickly. Thank you, Lunatic Pandora1, for pointing out a little detail I'd completely forgotten about; it's been ages since I last watched "First Contact". And thank you, shadow dragon04, for not biting my head off. Yet. Oh, shadow dragon04, this chapter may contain the scene I needed your permission to write.

Disclaimer: Ultra Rodimus and Falcon belong to me. Shadow is on loan from another author. The Transformers and Star Trek: Next Gen are the property of very rich people.

**Chase The Stars**

**Chapter 10: New Problems**

As the Autobots made their return to the _Enterprise, _Ultra Rodimus's comlink beeped for attention. He answered, wondering what was going on now.

"Could you send someone to deal with the Borg who were pulled out of the station?" Picard asked. "Borg drones can operate in open space."

"I'm on it." The young Prime transformed to his starfighter mode and peeled away from the others, tracking down the drones that had been sucked into space. They were making their way toward the starship, undoubtedly to attempt to assimilate it. The lead drone never even noticed the starfighter bearing down on it. A short burst from one of Ultra Rodimus's weapons mounts, which had been temporarily retrofitted with shrapnel weapons, cut it to pieces before it knew it had been hit. The other Borg turned to attack, but Ultra Rodimus had the advantage of superior maneuverability and made short work of them.

Picard was waiting when the Autobot leader finally entered the shuttle bay. The captain waited while Ultra Rodimus transformed and morphed to his human form, then approached him.

"Starfleet Command has been notified of the Borg ships' destruction," Picard told him. "Apparently there was another Starfleet ship in the area, and it witnessed the whole thing. Starfleet Command will want to talk with you."

"They can wait," was the response as Ultra Rodimus headed for the turbolift, forcing Picard into a jog to keep up with the taller man's long stride. "I'm more concerned about my people right now."

Four Autobots had been injected with Borg nanites. Two of them were Arcee and Shadow. Springer hadn't even noticed that he'd been injected, having been more concerned about Arcee, and Blades had been injected by a Borg who'd managed to get past his defense. All four were lying on the biobeds, watched anxiously by the other Autobots and Dr. Crusher.

"How are they?" Picard asked, beating Ultra Rodimus to the punch.

Beverly looked up from her scans. "The nanites are spreading through their systems much more slowly than I'd anticipated. My guess would be that it has something to do with their physiology and their real forms' immune systems. They've slowed down the nanites, but they can't stop them."

"Is there anything you can do?" Picard asked.

Beverly shook her head. "I don't know enough about their bodies to even suggest a course of treatment."

Mirage, who'd stationed himself by Shadow's bedside and refused to budge, looked alarmed.

Ultra Rodimus's eyes narrowed as he looked at the scans. Perceptor scurried over to him.

"I could not help but notice that you have discovered yet another of your alternate modes," the scientist commented. "I would like to begin the usual tests on this new form..."

"Treat injured Autobots now, poke at the Prime's new transform later," Ultra Rodimus interrupted sharply, and Perceptor backed off. The young Prime turned to Beverly. "Could you explain just what is happening to them?"

The doctor nodded, explaining to him the assimilation process. He listened carefully. When she finished, he leaned back against the wall, thinking over what he'd learned. Several minuets later, inspiration hit him.

"First Aid, Perceptor."

The medic and the scientist walked over to him.

"All of this is happening on the cellular level, correct?"

"Yes," First Aid agreed, wondering what the young bot was getting at.

"Then let's take the fight to the cellular level."

"How? There's nothing we know of that can fight these Borg nanites," First Aid pointed out.

"Sure there is. _My _nanites."

Both stared at him, stunned.

"But... but that would be even more dangerous!" First Aid protested. "Your nanites will kill them from the inside out!"

"Not if they're reprogrammed," Ultra Rodimus told them. "You filter the nanites from my blood, and Perceptor will reprogram them. Program them to recognize their energy signatures instead of mine. Then their bodies will be the nanites' hosts, and the nanites will destroy the intruders without harming the hosts."

First Aid's eyes lit up. As quickly as he could, he set up the filtering device he and Perceptor had invented the first time they'd discovered the capabilites of Ultra Rodimus's nanites. Perceptor began recalibrating his own equipment.

"What's going on?" Beverly asked.

Sandstorm looked at her. "Ultra Rodimus may have the solution to destroying the Borg nanites. His immune system's primary line of defense is an army of nanites that destroy and consume anything that doesn't have his energy signature, using the raw materials they ingest to replicate more of themselves. Very, very tenacious."

"But if they attack anything that doesn't have Ultra Rodimus's energy signature, won't they attack their hosts?"

"Perceptor is going to reprogram them, programming in their energy signatures" Sandstorm indicated the four Autobots on the biobeds "in the place of his. The nanites will recognize those four as their host bodies and go after the Borg nanoprobes instead."

Beverly nodded her understanding, then turned to watch as First Aid filtered the first batch of nanites from Ultra Rodimus's blood.

"You'll have to give each Autobot two shots," Ultra Rodimus commented. "One near where the Borg nanites went in, and the other in a different part of their body, into the bone marrow. The nanites will start replicating and send reinforcements to the main battleground."

Once the first batch of nanites had been harvested, Perceptor went to work adjusting their programming, replacing Ultra Rodimus's energy signature with Shadow's. First Aid loaded a hypospray with half of the nanites, injecting them into Shadow's forearm, then injecting the rest into her leg.

"One down, three to go," the medic commented to himself.

The "transfusion" was finished quickly. Ultra Rodimus flexed his arm for a moment, then looked at the others.

"Now all we can do is wait." He pulled over a chair and settled into it. "Most of you look like you're about ready to keel over. Go clean up and get some rest."

"But..." First Aid began.

"F.A., I've spent enough time hooked up to your monitors, especially as Hot Rod, that I have figured out how to read them. I'll keep an eye on things. Now scat."

Obediently, the others filed out. Ultra Rodimus settled back to watch the monitors, then glanced up as he noticed the person who hadn't listened to him.

Mirage was still at his post beside Shadow's bed, holding one of her hands in his, his eyes on her face. Exhaustion lined his face, and he was beginning to wobble on his feet.

"Mirage..."

Blue eyes fixed defiantly on his leader. "I'd rather stay here."

Ultra Rodimus's eyes narrowed. "You'll be no good to her if you don't even have the strength to stand. Go get some rest. I'll let you know if her condition changes."

The scout didn't move. The Prime rolled his eyes and made as if to get up, body language hinting at dire consequences if Mirage didn't listen to him. Noting that, the scout's eyes went wide, and he bolted for the door. Pleased with himself, Ultra Rodimus leaned back in his chair, hearing his mate's laughter through their lifebond.

Several hours passed. First Aid returned to take over monitoring the four victims. As he entered, he looked at the young leader.

"Their vital signs have improved," he was told. "The Borg nanites are being driven back."

The medic nodded, walking over to perform his own scans. Ultra Rodimus watched for a moment, then got up and stretched.

"And now, I'm off to my quarters before Magnus comes and drags me out." He nodded to First Aid and left.

When he woke up, hours later, he was told that the Borg nanites had been completely destroyed, and all four Autobots were recovering well. He was also reminded that Perceptor wanted to run testd on his newly-discovered ninth alternate mode. Heaving a sigh, he headed for the cargo bay, where the scientist had set up shop.

His new alternate form was a feline, built like a cross between a lion, a tiger, and a tank. Its body still bore the red-and-blue-on-grey stripe pattern, which broke up its outline, and Ultra Rodimus's silver hair translated into a thick, bushy silver mane and a silver puff on his tailtip. The feline mode was armed with razor-sharp fangs and claws, as well as two hip-mounted laser cannons/missile launchers, optic laser beams, a particle beam cannon in his mouth, and two sets of five long blades with molecular edges, which lay flat against his sides when not in use but could fan out to cut through anything in their way.

"Fascinating," Perceptor murmured, staring at the datascreens. "Infra-red optic settings, scanners for detecting energy trails, incredible night-sight... this mode is a tracker."

Ultra Rodimus snorted, dropping to the floor and resting his chin on his forepaws. He lay quietly for a moment. Then the tip of his tail began to twitch, and a green eye opened to regard it. He eyed the offending appendage for a moment, then swatted at it with a paw. It flipped out of reach, and he went after it. A moment later, he was whipping around in a circle, furiously chasing it, and sending the watching Autobots into fits of laughter. After about three minutes, he stopped, staggering about in a feline drunkard's walk, then collapsed onto his side and rolled onto his back, cross-eyed, tongue hanging out, panting.

Chuckling, Magnus walked over to look down at him. "Despite that amazing display of reflex, cunning, and physical prowess, your tail still has a death grip on your butt," he commented, sending the others into fits of laughter again.

It took a few minutes for Ultra Rodimus to recover, and he transformed back to robot. Magnus grinned at him and got a sour look in response. Ultra Rodimus sighed, then walked over to read over Perceptor's shoulder.

"Looks like a good dose of feline playfulness came along with the four feet," Sandstorm commented.

Ultra Rodimus shot him a look, but his comlink beeped before he could say anything. "Prime here."

"It's First Aid," the medic identified. "Shadow has woken up."

"On my way." The young Prime headed for the door.

Shadow was sitting up on the biobed when he arrived, watching First Aid run follow-up scans. The medic glanced up as his leader entered, then made himself scarce. Ultra Rodimus brought a chair over, turned it around, and straddled it, resting his arms on the back.

"How did I get back here?" Shadow asked.

"Mirage brought you," was the response. "And he stayed with you. I had to chase him out to get some rest before he fell over. I'm actually surprised he isn't here now."

"He's an obnoxious jerk," she snorted.

A silver eyebrow went up. "Is he really? Tell me this: on all those occasions you beat him up, when did he ever fight back?"

Shadow opened her mouth to reply, then closed it again, frowning. "He didn't," she said slowly. "Not even once."

"Before joining the Autobot army, Mirage was a noblemech. While the noble class might no longer exist, he still lives by its code of honor. It goes completely against everything he believes to strike a female."

"That doesn't seem to apply to his mouth," she grumbled.

"His past encounters with females were very short-term, and they were bound by the rules of their class. They were expected to be more docile, bowing to the wishes of the males. Until he became an Autobot, he'd never encountered a female who behaved any differently. He's not used to it. So it's not surprising he doesn't really know how to react to you. But he is learning. I do believe Arcee gave him a piece of her mind after First Aid finished putting him back together." Calm green eyes fixed on her gold. "He's not what you think. If you'd given him a chance, you'd've seen that. Think you could at least try to get to know him better?"

She considered that, then slowly nodded. Ultra Rodimus smiled at her, then rose and patted her shoulder. She watched him leave, thinking hard. After an hour or so, she reached a decision and went in search of Mirage.

The scout was in the quarters he shared with Metroplex. The city-bot was absent, however. Shadow stood in front of the closed door for a long moment, then pressed the door-chime.

"Come in," Mirage called. The door slid open, and she walked inside.

Mirage was in the bedroom, lying on his side with his back to the door. His tunic was draped over a chair, and he was barefoot. His shoulder-length shaded blue hair seemed to glitter as light from the window above the bed shone onto it. She stood in the doorway and watched for a moment, then spoke.

"So this is where you've been hiding."

Mirage jumped about a foot straight up, so startled that he actually fell off the bed. A moment later he was on his feet, staring at her.

"What are you doing here?" he finally managed to ask.

"I just came to talk." She walked over and sat on the edge of the bed. After a moment, he sat on the other side, warily keeping some distance between them. "I'm not going to bite you."

"It's not your bite I'm worried about," he mumbled.

"I hear I owe you my life," she commented.

The scout turned an interesting color. "It was no big thing. If you want to be technical about it, Ultra Rodimus saved you; it was his nanites that destroyed the Borg nanoprobes."

"But he's not the one who got me off the cube ship," she pointed out. "You could have just left me there."

"I couldn't!" He stared at her. "How could you even suggest such a thing?"

She made calming gestures, and he slowly subsided. "Just making a point."

He eyed her for a moment.

The two fell into a conversation. How long they talked, Shadow didn't know. She learned more about Mirage during that time than she'd learned in years. Slowly, slowly, he began to relax, but he was still quite tense. Determined to get him to calm down, she pounced on him, quickly discovering that he was fairly ticklish. He was reduced to helpless laughter, squirming, trying to bat her hands away from his vulnerable sides, but she was relentless. She ended up sitting on his stomach, holding him down, running her nails over the sensitive skin of his sides. He tried to retaliate, but the tears that his laughter had caused blurred his vision, and his hand slid higher than he'd intended. The tips of his fingers brushed against the hypersensitive skin where feathers emerged from flesh, sending sparks dancing along her nerves. It felt good, and she collapsed against him with a gasp.

He promptly froze, peering at her with wide eyes. "I... I'm sorry... I didn't mean..."

"'S alright," she murmured. "Do that again."

Cautiously, he reached out and touched the spot again, and she practically melted. Feeling somewhat bolder, but still very aware that she could turn on him at any moment, he slid his hand under her tunic and caressed the base of her right wing, where the skin was most sensitive. She almost purred, nuzzling his collarbone. A soft smile touched his features.

Afterward, neither of them would be able to tell when the mood shifted from friendly-playful to something more intimate. Exactly who had invited who was too fuzzy to recall. Shadow was quite pleased to learn that what Ultra Rodimus had said was true; Mirage was a gentlebot, and he'd had at least some intimate experience with a female. She'd heard a lot from other femmes about the dominating nature of males, but Mirage was the opposite. He yielded to her, letting her dictate the pace. He was also quite considerate, making sure she was fully sated before sating himself. Very different from what the other femmes had claimed males were like.

Some time later, things had calmed down. He'd given up the battle to stay awake, drifting into sleep, and she wasn't too far behind. She lay with her head on his chest, listening to his quiet breathing. Her last thought before following him into sleep was, _maybe he's not such a jerk after all._

**Tbc...**

Fairly long chapter. And now you see why I asked your permission to write that scene, shadow dragon04. So if Shadow comes back with a dreamy or loopy look, or any variation thereof, talk to Mirage. Now, send me reviews and I'll start harnessing plot bunnies for the next chapter!


	12. To Earth

Author's Note: I am sorry for the delay, but I've been busy. The circus was in, so I had my 2 sisters yowling at me to take them there, I had to suffer through several shopping trips with my mom and grandfather (not at the same time, though), and more than enough other stuff to keep me away from keyboard for this long.

This chapter might turn out to be a little shorter than most of the others; the plot bunnies have not been cooperating with my attempts to get them corraled so I could write this. Looks like I'll have to get Steeljaw to help me with the roundup again... The title was chosen at random, the result of being unable to think of anything else. Why are chapter titles so hard to come up with?

Disclaimer: Ultra Rodimus, Falcon, and Lightfoot are my own characters. Shadow belongs to a fellow author. The rest of the Transformers and the Star Trek: Next Gen universe belong to other people. Who are not me.

**Chase the Stars**

**Chapter 11: To Earth**

The next day, Mirage and Shadow walked into the Ten-Forward lounge to find all of the other Autobots already there. Ultra Rodimus was in the process of devouring what looked like his third plate of food, eating so quickly it looked like he was inhaling it, while his mate watched. From the occasional dirty looks the young Prime shot in Magnus's direction, the older bot was making comments about the amount he had to eat to keep up with Falcon. The downside of having a skrill was that it took nutrients from its host's body, forcing the host to eat massive amounts of food to provide for both of them. The others sat in small groups, talking and picking at the remains of their own meals. Lightfoot was cruising from table to table, looking for handouts.

When the door opened, all of them turned to look. A dozen pairs of eyes took in how close to each other they were walking, the way they held hands, and their body language. Soft mutters started here and there as the other Autobots wondered what had changed between the two.

Ultra Rodimus looked up as they approached, pushing aside his empty plate and tilting his head at them. "I take it you two had a productive evening," he commented. "Seeing as how Mirage is still in one piece."

Shadow grinned at him. "About as productive as any evening when you and Magnus disappear into your quarters."

The young leader raised his eyebrows at that, and the others let out a groan. Mirage looked at them oddly, but before he could say a word they began coming over and depositing small piles of credits on the table in front of their leader. For a moment Ultra Rodimus looked completely blank. Then comprehension dawned, and he chuckled.

"What's so funny?" Shadow asked, narrowing her eyes at him.

"After you went to see Mirage, Blades was quite loudly stating that you were going to tear him apart. I was of the opinion that you two would work things out and you'd get along just fine. Blades eyed me and then said he'd take me up on that. I didn't think he'd meant it literally." He shrugged.

"Looks like everyone else agreed with Blades," Mirage observed.

"Looks that way."

The young Prime was counting the piles of credits when the door hissed open again, and Captain Picard walked in. The aging human made his way over to where Ultra Rodimus was sitting.

"What news?" Ultra Rodimus asked.

"I just received orders from Starfleet," Picard told him. "They want us to return to Earth at once. They're very interested in interrog... erm, _debriefing..._ you and your people."

"And we have no say in the matter?"

"They were very... insistent."

Ultra Rodimus muttered something in ancient Autobot under his breath, causing Magnus to hastily swallow a snicker. "I do not like having to postpone our search for a way home any longer."

Picard looked sympathetic. "I know the feeling. Unfortunately, it looks like you're going to have to. In two days' time another ship will be rendesvousing with us on their way to take over our prior mission, dropping off some people who intend to get as much as they can out of you before we reach Earth."

Someone else, it sounded like Springer, snorted. "They can try. Trying to force us into telling anything is just this side of impossible. And Primus help them if it's Ultra Roddy that they try to press."

Ultra Rodimus adopted a look of complete and utter innocence, but failed to fool anyone.

Two days passed fairly quickly. When the _Enterprise_ arrived at the rendesvous site, the other ship was already waiting. They transported half a dozen people to _Enterprise, _then headed off in the direction _Enterprise _had come from.

In the transporter room, Picard winced inwardly as he recognized Vice Admiral Alynna Nechayev taking shape on the transporter pad. He could face a great deal of beings without flinching, but Admiral Nechayev was not one of them. She had a reputation as one of the harshest and most tenacious admirals in the fleet. He'd run afoul of her on several occasions, and knew her reputation was very true.

Pale eyes fixed on him the moment she finished materializing. Stepping off the platform, she headed right for the door, and he had to scramble to keep up.

"We are here to begin preliminary debriefings with your guests," she told him as she stalked down the corridor. "I want to begin right away."

"That may not be possible," he protested. "As far as they are concerned, their day is done, and they're on their own time now."

"What they think is irrelevant. I will speak with their leader now." Ignoring his protests, she got the location of Ultra Rodimus's assigned quarters from the computer and made a beeline right for them. Picard and his command staff trailed her helplessly.

When she reached his quarters, she didn't even bother asking for entry. She simply burst in. Sandstorm, who'd been sitting on the couch, reading, jumped up to head her off as she headed for the closed door to the bedroom.

"I wouldn't go near there, if I were you," he warned.

The sandy-haired admiral glared at him, but he was unphased by it. "Move aside. I want to see your commander at once."

The pacifist Autobot eyed her, then looked at Picard. "I was unaware that Starfleet admirals harbored death wishes."

"Some more than others," Picard replied, gesturing for his crew to stay well back and out of the line of sight from that door. They retreated to a corner.

Sandstorm looked back at Nechayev, then shrugged, deciding to let Ultra Rodimus deal with her. "Fine. Your funeral." He stepped aside.

Nechayev looked at one of her companions. "Open the door."

The man walked forward, triggering the door sensor. It hissed open, exposing the unlit bedroom. He opened his mouth to speak.

Before he could say a single word, a blast of energy hit him in the chest and hurled him across the room. He hit the wall and crumpled to the floor in a heap. Another of the admiral's assistants headed for the door, but a streak of gold and moon-silver intercepted him. Ultra Rodimus flattened him with one powerful backhanded swat, then spun on the admiral. Before she could register that he'd moved, he had her.

The Autobot leader's long silver hair was unbound, cascading loose down his back. The bedsheet tied around his waist clearly announced what he and his mate had been up to in the other room, and his eyes were blazing with fury. Nechayev had only a moment to notice that and realize that she should've listened to Picard before the enraged Prime was on her, one hand lashing out to clamp shut on her throat. She gasped for breath, clawing at his arm.

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't snap your neck like a toothpick," he hissed.

She made a gurgling noise, dropping to her knees as her legs gave way. His grip on her throat eased off only slightly, allowing her to draw in a trickle of air.

Picard shook his head. "I did tell you to wait, Admiral. You should have listened to me."

"Yes, she should have." Magnus leaned against the doorframe, his tunic draped over his hips, covering his private parts but nothing else. He fixed a disapproving glare on the admiral. "Perhaps now she'll learn that it is wise to listen to what others say. Correct?" His eyes narrowed at her.

She let out an affirmative noise.

Ultra Rodimus eyed her for a long moment, eyes still burning with rage. She stared up at him, suddenly realizing what a mouse felt like under the stare of a hawk. Then, finally, he released her throat. She fell forward onto all fours, panting heavily, the top of her head almost touching his knee. He towered over her, intense stare almost burning a hole right through her.

Something black and furry slammed into her, and her arms gave way. She ended up face down on the deck, a growling wolf standing over her, teeth bared and fur bristling. Ultra Rodimus didn't move.

Sandstorm prodded her in the side with one booted foot. "Apologize," he told her.

Nechayev managed to croak out an apology. Ultra Rodimus remained still a moment longer, gazing down at the admiral stretched out on the deck at his feet. Then he stepped away from her, toward Picard, shooting the admiral's other companions a warning look. They cautiously kept their distance. The Prime looked at the captain.

"I trust there will not be a repeat of this intrusion?" His voice was still as cold as ice.

Picard shook his head. "There will not be a repeat of this incident. I do believe the admiral has learned her lesson."

"She had better have learned it. If she tries a stunt like this again, I will not be so lenient with her." With that, he turned and stalked back toward the bedroom, deliberately stepping on the prostrate admiral on his way. She grunted as his considerable mass flattened her against the deck. "Lightfoot."

The wolf snarled at her one last time, then backed off. He padded over to Ultra Rodimus's first victim, who still lay in an unconscious heap, sniffed at him for a moment, then turned sideways, hoisted one hind leg, and proceeded to let him know exactly what he thought of him. Then he trotted after his master. The door hissed closed behind them.

Chuckling to himself, Picard walked over to the unconscious man, who now reeked of wolf piss. He tapped his comm badge. "Transporter room, one of the admiral's companions needs to be transported to sickbay. As does the admiral."

There was a clear note of curiousity in Miles O'Brien's voice as he responded. "Yes, sir."

A moment later, the hum of the transporter filled the room as the unconscious man and Admiral Nechayev vanished in a shower of blue sparks. Everyone else headed for the door. Picard nodded to Sandstorm before following them.

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In the bedroom, Ultra Rodimus dropped onto the bed, chin on his crossed arms, and glared at the wall. Magnus sat on the edge of the bed and gazed at him thoughtfully. He could feel his lover's mood through their lifebond. What he felt was a black mood that would linger for quite some time unless he did something to uproot it. After a moment's thought, he pulled something from his subspace pocket.

It was a bottle of scented massage oil, something he'd asked Spike to pick up for him some time ago. Spike had agreed, but he had been very curious about what the 70-foot robot could want with it. Magnus, however had had just this type of situation in mind. He opened the bottle, poured some onto his hands, and began kneading his mate's shoulders. Ultra Rodimus leaned into his hands, his muscles, as tense as overtuned harp strings, beginning to relax. The older male sent soothing feelings along their lifebond, wrapping his mate's mind in a cocoon of warmth. It had the desired effect. The younger male relaxed almost completely, beginning to purr softly.

Smiling to himself, Magnus leaned down to nip at the back of his younger lover's neck, one hand running down Ultra Rodimus's side and slipping under a gold-skinned hip. Ultra Rodimus hissed softly as that hand touched a very sensitive place and began to stroke, sending shivers along his spine. He leaned into that touch. Then he rolled onto his back, reaching up to catch his fingers in Magnus's long blue hair and pull him down. They shared a deep, passionate kiss, sustaining it until the need for air forced them apart. Magnus pressed kisses to his mate's throat, following his jawline to his ear and nipping at it, growling roughly. Ultra Rodimus's response was a deep, soft laugh as he arched his back, twining his legs with his mate's.

Successfully having restored the mood that had been broken by the intrusion, Magnus allowed himself a small feeling of triumph, and heard his lifemate laugh at him. With a chuckle of his own, he picked up right where he'd left off.

Lightfoot watched from where he lay curled up on a pile of rugs, tongue hanging out in a silly canine grin. Then he put his head down on his paws, satisfied that once again all was right with the world.

**Tbc...**

I suppose it must be obvious that my plot bunnies were not cooperating. Sorry if this chapter is odd. Blame writer's block. And Fenestrae, to answer a question you asked me after I posted chapter 21 of "Metal and Neon", no, they haven't been caught in the act. Ultra Rodimus would personally dismember anyone he caught trying to spy on them when they're "busy". Now send me some reviews!


	13. Starfleet

Author's Note: I sincerely apologize for the delay, but circumstances have been against me lately. My grandfather has been dragging me out to the bungalow every day the weather is partway decent, and my sister has been coming in and hogging the computer for hours on end. So it's their fault I haven't been able to update sooner. And yes, the title of this chapter is another random choice.

Disclaimer: I think you get the idea.

**Chase the Stars**

**Chapter 12: Starfleet**

Once Admiral Nechayev and her two companions were relatively coherent again, Picard gave them as much of a lecture as he dared, outlining Ultra Rodimus's personality and making it clear that he did not respond well to being threatened or interrupted. Nechayev looked more than a little embarrassed when she realized exactly what she had interrupted.

"So those two are a couple?" one of the others asked.

"They are. That's why they are sharing quarters."

"What about the other man, the redhead?"

"That's Sandstorm. He's Ultra Rodimus's personal aide. Magnus told me that Sandstorm is one of the few who can handle Ultra Rodimus when he's in one of his stubborn moods, and that he prefers to handle the more domestic tasks. I got the distinct impression that it's Sandstorm who handles Ultra Rodimus's wardrobe; Magnus commented that Ultra Rodimus's sense of style is small to nonexistant. So my opinion is that Sandstorm serves more as a body-servant."

"And that's a good thing?"

"From what the other Autobots have said, Ultra Rodimus is a chronic workaholic, constantly on call and often placing the needs of others before his own. If it wasn't for Sandstorm, he would've burned himself out long ago. Sandstorm is the one who makes certain he gets enough rest, takes breaks, and that he looks half decent. He's the one who keeps Ultra Rodimus from working himself into a complete system crash."

"Oh."

Several hours later, Picard got a call that said the young Autobot leader had been seen wandering through the lower levels of the ship. The human captain went to investigate.

Sure enough, they found Ultra Rodimus near the Engineering section, aimlessly wandering the corridors. He wore only a loose robe, tied with a cloth belt, and his emerald eyes were half closed. He wasn't reacting to anyone or anything, except for course corrections to avoid running into things.

"I'm not sure he's actually awake," Deanna Troi commented.

"You mean he's sleepwalking?" Riker asked.

"It seems that way."

Picard tapped his commbadge. "Picard to Magnus."

There was a moment of silence.

"Magnus here."

"Would you mind coming down to Engineering and collecting your mate?"

There was a short pause. "I'll be right down."

A few minutes later, Magnus arrived, trotting over to join them. He wore a loose tunic and pants, and his blue hair hung loose down his back. Picard pointed at Ultra Rodimus, who'd stopped wandering and stood by the wall, eyes closed, swaying from side to side. The bluenette chuckled and walked over to him, scooping the younger male into his arms.

"This is a first," Magnus commented, looking over at Picard. "He usually finds his own way back to our rooms."

"So this isn't the first time he's done this?"

"Nope." The Autobot headed for the turbolift. "I'll explain it later. Right now, I'm going back to bed."

The next morning, Picard, Riker, Troi, and Beverly arrived at the quarters shared by Ultra Rodimus and Magnus. Sandstorm let them in. Magnus was up, waiting for them.

"I get the impression that Ultra Rodimus's sleepwalking is a fairly regular occurence," Picard commented as he settled onto the couch.

"Not as regular as you think. And no, he's not a chronic. For you humans, sleepwalking occurs during stress or as a result of what you call night terrors. Ultra Rodimus's sleepwalking is nothing of the sort. For him, it's energy release."

"Energy release?" Dr. Crusher echoed.

"Yes." Magnus shifted position. "He's young, and young people of any species tend to have a lot of energy. Which is why young people tend to be so active. In his case, he spends the majority of his time stuck behind a desk, so he has no way to work off that energy. His mind might be completely exhausted, but his body is still wound up, and he can't sleep properly unless he works off that energy." The bluenette rolled his eyes. "To tell the truth, I prefer the sleepwalking to what he used to do."

Picard raised an eyebrow in a question.

The Autobot second-in-command made a face. "You're all familiar with those spasms you get just when you're about to fall asleep, I assume. Well, that's what he used to do. And not just once or twice. Constantly, for hours on end. It made sharing a bed with him very difficult. In the mornings I'd be ready to fall over with exhaustion and he'd be just fine. After a few days, he asked me why I looked like hell. So I told him exactly what was going on, and informed him that if he kept having those fidget fits there was no way we'd be able to sleep together. He didn't like that. Not long after, the sleepwalking started. I followed him a couple of times, until I realized all he did was wander around until he'd worked off enough energy that he could sleep, then make his way back to bed."

"And this isn't a regular occurence?"

"No. Usually I help him get rid of that energy, through a playful wrestling match, playing keep-away with his hairbrush (with hair that long, he can't do without it, and he'll chase me all over the place to get it back), or by making love. He only sleepwalks when I'm too tired to do anything."

"Then why was he sleepwalking last night? We do know what you two were doing in there."

"Adrenaline overcharge. That admiral really pissed him off, and when he's angry he's even more active than usual. This time I wasn't able to keep up with him, so he needed another way to work off some steam." Magnus shrugged.

The bedroom door opened, and Ultra Rodimus came out. There were dark shadows under his eyes; he clearly hadn't gotten enough sleep.

"Heading out?" Magnus asked, looking over at him.

"Yeah. I've got a lot of things to do."

"Hmm. And maybe later you can explain to me how you managed to tour half the ship and remain unconscious the whole time."

Ultra Rodimus stopped, turning to stare at him. "You mean...?"

"Yep. And I've got witnesses."

The young Prime groaned, then turned and went back into the bedroom. Riker looked at Magnus.

"He knows that when he's that tired I'll be a constant step ahead of him, and he hates that," the blue-haired Autobot explained.

"You really know what buttons to push, don't you."

"It's part of being his mate. He's not big on looking after himself, so someone has to."

The next day, Ultra Rodimus was back out and about. Admiral Nechayev resumed trying to corner him, but he proved adept at evading her. He actually managed to steer her toward Perceptor, who was only too happy to talk. Unfortunately for her, she didn't understand any of what he was saying, and quickly scurried away. The other Autobots, taking their cue from their leader, also began giving her the runaround, keeping her going around in circles until she finally gave up.

"You really don't like her, do you."

"Not in the least," Ultra Rodimus replied cheerfully.

"At least she's good for some entertainment," Shadow commented, making the others laugh.

The Autobots had gathered in Ten-Forward, having pushed several tables together to make enough room for all of them. The Protectobots were in a group, as usual, Shadow was leaning against Mirage, Arcee against Springer. Metroplex was straddling a chair between Springer and Sandstorm. Ultra Rodimus had draped himself over the chair between Sandstorm and Magnus, and Perceptor had taken the seat on Magnus's other side. Lightfoot, as usual, was curled up at his master's feet.

From the other side of the room, Guinan watched the group. She had to admit she was curious about them. Never in her long life had she encountered a race like them, and she had encountered a great many races. Learning that they were a race of robots had thrown her for a loop; her experience with the Borg had made her somewhat cautiout around mechanical life-forms, the exception being Data. But the Autobots were nothing like the Borg or like Data. They were _more. _She couldn't really say how, but she could sense it.

Finally, curiousity got the better of her, and she headed over to them.

Shadow was the first to notice her, and the others followed her gaze, watching the dark-skinned woman approach them. They were just as curious as she was.

Ultra Rodimus raised his eyebrows in a query. Guinan tilted her head.

"I'm curious about you," she told them. "I've never encountered a race like you."

"And you're not likely to again," Hot Spot commented.

Metroplex moved over, opening a space between himself and Sandstorm. Guinan brought over another chair. Within a few minutes she was in the middle of one of the most interesting conversations she'd ever taken part in.

Four days later, they finally reached Earth.

The young Prime eyed the image on the viewscreen. "Looks quite different from the world I'm used to, but that's to be expected. Not only are we in another reality, we're in the future."

"There isn't anything like this in your reality?" Riker asked.

"Not yet."

The communications console beeped for attention. Worf looked at the monitor, then at Picard. "It's a message from Starfleet Command. They wish to meet our passengers as soon as possible."

Ultra Rodimus smiled, making a faint shiver run down Picard's spine, an anticipation of mayhem. "Then let's not keep them waiting."

**Tbc...**

And there's another chapter finished. Next chapter: Starfleet learns the Cybertronian definition of "fun". Now send me some reviews, and I will try (though I can't promise anything) to get the next chapter out sooner.


	14. Of Autobots and Admirals

Author's Note: I am _so _sorry for the delay, but I was suffering from an very persistant case of writer's block. And I had a dozen ideas for this chapter that I had to sort through and follow to their conclusions; most of them turned out to be dead ends. Plus, my sister, Dark-Phoenix22, got me hooked on the anime Initial D, which I then had to watch on YouTube from start to end. So you can give them hell for the delay.

On another note, I am co-authoring a fic with shadow dragon04, called "Dimensions Apart". Shadow dragon04 has also borrowed my character Ultra Rodimus for a fanfic of her own, "A Chat Between Dimensions". Fatala has also borrowed Ultra Roddy for her fic "The Cybertron Files". If you like my work, go take a look at theirs. And once Foxey gets back into the active fanfic rotation, she'll be writing an interview chapter for her fic "Interviews With the Transformers", starring Ultra Roddy. So keep an optic open for that!

Disclaimer: I've said it a hundred times already. Don't make me repeat myself. A few of the admirals who will be mentioned in this chapter are my own creations, 'cause I don't know very many from Star Trek.

**Chase the Stars**

**Chapter 13: Of Autobots and Admirals**

Captain Picard and several other members of his command staff, along with most of the Autobots, had assembled in the transporter room. They were somewhat impatiently awaiting the arrival of the last three members of the group, Ultra Rodimus, Ultra Magnus, and Sandstorm, as well as Ultra Rodimus's pet wolf, Lightfoot. More than one person had begun to fidget when the door finally opened and the three walked in.

Ultra Rodimus was wearing a pair of blue jeans, clinging to his legs, not skintight but close. His blue shirt had no sleeves, leaving his arms bare, and he carried his snakeskin coat over one shoulder. His hair was tied back in the typical braid. Lightfoot trotted at his side, a silly canine grin on his face, tail up and waving like a banner. He was almost bouncing. Magnus wore the red, blue, and white garments he'd been wearing when the group of Autobots had first arrived. His blue hair hung loose over his shoulders. Sandstorm wore his own red and orange garments, his short, greying red hair looking slightly windblown.

As the Autobot leader and his mate approached, Picard caught a faint whiff of a scent that quite clearly told him why the two were the last to arrive. He shot the young Prime a dirty look. Ultra Rodimus only smirked in reply.

"We're finally all here," Riker commented.

The group stepped onto the transporter pads, going in groups of six. Picard, Riker, Troi, Data, Ultra Rodimus, and Magnus were the first people down, with the rest following soon after. A minute or so after their arrival, a group of admirals approached.

"Captain Picard," the lead admiral greeted.

"Admiral Stone." Picard took the offered hand. "It's been a while."

"Yes, it has." Admiral Stone looked past him, then back at Picard. "Weren't you going to bring your guests with you?"

"We did. They beamed down with us." Picard turned to look. Sure enough, every single one of the Autobots had disappeared. Picard's eyebrow twitched.

"Then where did they all go?"

"I'm not sure."

Picard gave the admirals advice on what to look for in order to find the missing Cybertronians. The first to be noticed was a light blue 20th century fire engine, which turned out to be Hot Spot. Not far away, Springer was spotted for an instant before the green and silver rocket car blew out of sight again. Then the grumble of another engine, closely followed by two more modern engines, reached their ears, and they turned to look for the source. For a moment, they saw nothing. Then a bike roared into view.

Any motorcycle enthusiast would've recognized it as a modified Kawasaki Ninja, built for speed. This one had been heavily modified, making it even more streamlined, and the sound of its engine hinted that so far they hadn't seen anything where speed was concerned. In color, it was black with red highlights. That was enough to identify it as being Shadow, the Autobot commander's personal bodyguard.

And the bike's rider was the Autobot leader himself.

He was using his battle helmet as a biking helmet, the visor down to keep the wind out of his eyes. His coat and long silver braid whipped out behind him. The two were being persued by a pair of anti-grav bikes, the pilots yelling at them to slow down.

"Pull up!" one yelled.

Picard could almost see Ultra Rodimus's grin before the young male chose to deliberately misunderstand the order. He shifted his weight, pulling back on the handlebars, and the bike rose up onto its rear tire in a perfect wheelie. Ultra Rodimus gave the hoverbike pilot a cheeky grin and a wave, then let the bike drop back to both tires and gunned the engine. The roar increased in intensity.

"Fifty credits says she makes them eat her dust," Riker commented, and two admirals shot him dirty looks.

The bike suddenly came on with incredible speed, quickly outdistancing the two startled hoverbikes, navigating the crowds and around obstacles with ease.

"That's impossible!" Admiral Stone gasped out. "He shouldn't be able to navigate at such speeds! How can he possibly drive like that going that fast?"

"He's just a passenger; he's not the one driving," Troi told him. "Shadow can navigate just fine without his help. She's the one steering. He's just along for the ride."

"Shadow?"

"The bike. It's a female Autobot named Shadow. She's using her own scanners to avoid running into anything or over anyone."

The admirals stared in the direction the bike had gone. They were all having trouble believing that Ultra Rodimus and his people were actually giant sentient robots, not the humanoids they appeared to be. That the bike itself was a sentient being was a hard idea for them to digest. Of course, Picard told himself, that would change when they actually saw one of the Autobots morph back to his (or her) real form.

"Well, he shouldn't be too hard to keep track of," someone commented.

"Don't be so sure," Geordi warned.

To the admirals' shock, Ultra Rodimus and Shadow seemed to have disappeared entirely. Despite the roar of Shadow's engine and the trail of exhaust she should have been leaving, there wasn't a trace of them.

"The fastest thing I found was Sandstorm canine surfing," Riker told Picard.

"Canine surfing?"

Riker pointed to the monitor.

The redheaded pacifist was holding onto Lightfoot's leash with one hand, a fishing pole with the other. From the pole dangled a dog treat. Lightfoot was running after the treat, pulling Sandstorm along with him. Picard wondered where he'd gotten the rollerblades.

The wolf and bot sped out of sight around a corner and vanished. Picard shook his head and couldn't resist chuckling to himself.

The rest of the day passed without spotting any of the other Autobots. Finally, Admiral Stone and Captain Picard returned to the admiral's office. Stone opened the door...

And found thirteen of the fourteen Autobots waiting there, the way they were sitting clearly announcing that they'd been there for a while.

Shadow and Mirage sat on the couch, Shadow having fallen asleep on Mirage's shoulder. The Protectobots were clumped together in a corner, dozing, using whoever was closest as a pillow. Sandstorm sat cross-legged with his back against the wall. Springer and Arcee were sleeping in another corner, Arcee practically on Springer's lap. Magnus was sitting on the window ledge, arms crossed over his chest. Perceptor was reading a datapad he'd acquired from somewhere. Ultra Rodimus was leaning back in the chair in front of the desk, serpent-clad feet up on the desk itself, ankles crossed comfortably. He appeared to be dozing, but as the two humans approached his sharp green eyes opened. Lightfoot was curled up, sound asleep, beside his master.

"Took you long enough," he commented, raising an eyebrow.

"Why did you all disappear after you beamed down?" Picard asked.

"Cabin fever." Ultra Rodimus shrugged fluidly. "Sorry to say it, but while your starship is big it is still an enclosed space. This is the first chance we've had to get out in the open in two weeks, so we took full advantage of it."

The _Enterprise _captain ran a quick head count. "One of you is missing. Where is Metroplex?"

The young silver-haired Autobot pointed somewhat lazily toward the window. "The fact that you had to ask makes me wonder how you could possibly have overlooked something that massive."

Captain and admiral looked outside and stared.

A short distance away from Starfleet Headquarters, in what had once been an open field, towered an alien city, its heights gleaming in the fading light of day. Its highest reaches were equipped with flashing warning lights to advertise their presence to any low-flying aircraft, but the powerful floodlights on the ground level, lighting up the city's towers and making the whole city appear to glow, made those warning lights appear to be for decoration only. Some of those floodlights had colored covers, highlighting various sections with red, green, blue, purple, and other colors, making the entire city appear like something right out of a dream world.

"That's Metroplex?" Admiral Stone gasped.

"That's him, yes. You can see how he got his name. It's a fusion of 'metropolitan complex', or something like that. Picard, you've seen him in his robot mode, so you shouldn't be surprised that his alternate mode is a very big city. He's actually the city core, and the rest is just attached to him. He runs it, but it's not actually part of his body." The Prime casually moved his feet off the desk, crossing his legs and watching the two humans steadily.

"Can we please get this over with?" Magnus asked, looking up. "Some of us would like to eat and sleep and climb our mates, though not necessarily in that order."

One of the other Autobots snickered.

Admiral Stone did a credible imitation of a fish on land for a few moments, then shook himself and sat down, looking into Ultra Rodimus's eyes. For a long moment he could only stare at him. Then he summoned the other admirals to his office and waited for them to arrive.

**Tbc...**

As I said before, I sincerely apologize for how long it's taken me to post this chapter. Circumstances (and revolting plot bunnies) have been against me for the last month. Not to mention a trip to visit my cousins and another birthday (my 21st). Just please remember that if you kill me, there won't be anyone left to finish this fic, so no throwing sharp/heavy objects at me until I'm finished, please. Now send me some reviews!


	15. Preparing to Return

Author's Note: I sincerely apologize for the long delay in updating. Circumstances beyond my control have been teaming up on me lately. I have no idea when I might be able to update again. Hopefully this chapter won't be too short... Chapter title was chosen at random.

This fic now has over 7700 hits! Thanks to all my readers!

Also, just to clear something up, while the _name _Sandstorm belongs to Hasbro, the _character _it belongs to is my own version of the original. The bot is mine, but the name isn't.

Disclaimer: I already told you. Don't force me to repeat myself.

**Chase the Stars**

**Chapter 14: Preparing to Return**

Once the other admirals arrived at Stone's office, the debriefing began. Ultra Rodimus answered their questions, only giving as much information as he decided they should have. Whenever he decided to hold something back, there was nothing they could do to pry it out of him.

One of the other admirals eyed the Autobot leader. "You claim to be robotic in nature, but you do not look robotic."

"That is because we're not in our natural forms," Ultra Magnus responded from his perch on the window ledge. "Our real forms will not fit in here. Or almost anywhere else inside this building, for that matter."

"At the moment only one of us is in his real form," Hot Spot, who'd woken up when the talking began, cut in. "Over there." The Protectobot leader pointed out the window at the towering heights of Metroplex.

The gathered admirals eyed him for a moment, then clustered around the window to see for themselves. Jaws dropped as startled eyes took in the brightly-lit city, clearly of alien architecture, that stood not a few hundred yards away in what had once been an empty field. Multicolored floodlights made it seem almost unreal, not of that reality. It was an awesome sight.

"That's..." another admiral gasped out.

"That's Metroplex," Ultra Rodimus informed them. "That is what he looks like in his true form. We are considerably smaller in our real forms than he is, but we are also considerably larger than you are. Most of us could step on one of you and never notice."

They shot him looks that were both disbelieving and nervous.

He smiled at them. "We are, however, very aware of any smaller life-form near us. As far as I know we have yet to step on anyone, either accidentally or deliberately. The Decepticons, on the other hand..."

The admirals returned to their places. "Decepticons?"

"We told our history to the _Enterprise _crew; you can get the information from their computers," the Prime informed them. "The tale is too long to be retold now. We have a documented history that goes back more than a hundred million years. Most of it is drenched in blood and violence. Suffice to say that you should be glad we Autobots were pulled into the dimensional breach and not the Decepticons."

The flood of questions continued. Finally, someone asked about the power Ultra Rodimus had used against Q and the Borg.

"I did not use it," he retorted. "It did that by itself. That power cannot be harnessed or controlled. I can only touch it if it allows me to. It is beyond your understanding."

"We will be the judge of that," a female admiral, their nemesis Admiral Nechayev, snapped.

Ultra Rodimus's eyes fixed on her. Blue-green fire flickered and danced in their depths, and she suddenly had the distinct impression that she was being watched by countless millions of eyes.

"Even we do not fully understand this power," the silver-haired young male told her softly. "And we are far more advanced that you are. Only certain people are able to wield it at all, and I am currently the only one who can do so. It is the power of a being greater even that the Q, contained within a shell beyond any being's ability to create. You have no hope of understanding it, much less controlling or copying it."

The admirals stared at him. He looked back at them calmly, then glanced at the chrono and rose to his feet.

"I will answer no more of your questions tonight," he informed them, waiting for a moment as the other Autobots got up, stretching and yawning. Lightfoot rumbled softly, pushing himself up to all fours and stretching almost like a cat, flexing his toes, claws scraping on the floor, and yawned, exposing formidable fangs. Shadow stretched her wings, which spanned almost the entire width of the office, almost 12 feet of crimson-tipped ebony feathers, then folded them again. Then the entire group left the office.

The next day, Metroplex was the single biggest topic of coversation for the entire Starfleet Academy. Daylight made the giant alien city seem more real as sunlight gleamed off the walls and windows. Very few cadets could resist the temptation to go and explore the complex. There was soon a steady stream of cadets going to and from Metroplex. No few professors and other staff members trickled in to have a look around for themselves.

Later that day, the group of admirals and Captain Picard entered Metroplex in search of the Autobots. They were openly and loudly debating if the Autobots had been telling the truth when they said they were of robotic origin. Picard was wisely keeping out of it. Most of the admirals were of the opinion that the Autobots were lying. Entering what was clearly a main corridor, the ceiling almost 100 feet high, with control panels located here and there, positioned 3-50 feet up, sometimes higher, and joined the steady flow of cadets heading toward one specific section of the city. It wasn't long before they heard music, and could almost feel the floors quivering with the beat.

"Of course a city this size would have its own club," an older admiral groaned.

The room was enormous, with a very high ceiling. Multicolored lights flashed and moved, sweeping over the crowd on the dance floor. On the far side of the room was a section full of tables and chairs, all sized for beings much larger than humans. Next to it was a raised section clearly meant for humans and humanoids. A few were there, having drinks and snacks while watching the dancers.

"There." Nechayev pointed.

Most of the Autobots were on the dance floor, in the middle of a clear space left by the other dancers. The winged female, Shadow, was being pestered by a swarm of cadets asking questions about her wings and trying to touch them. She was clearly getting irritated, and her partner, the shaded-blue-haired male called Mirage, was visibly starting to bristle. Shadow's quivering wings were clear indicators of her state of mind. Then someone shouted something from another part of the room, and everyone turned to look.

Ultra Rodimus had arrived.

The Autobot leader almost flowed out of the shadows into the room, pausing to look around. His arrival was surprising enough, but when everyone got a better look at him, jaws dropped.

The young Prime had abandoned his usual red-and-blue-striped garments and blue jeans, replacing them with a pair of skin-tight black leather pants, matching sandals, and an open black leather vest, exposing his muscular torso. His hair was tied back in a ponytail, held out of his face by a leather headband that matched his garments, holding a silver moonstone on his forehead. Black leather bands circled his wrists. He looked absolutely stunning as he paused in the doorway, hands on his hips, to survey the room. His gaze landed on a young female cadet standing nearby, staring at him. She inhaled sharply as his gaze settled on her, then fainted dead away. Ultra Rodimus chuckled softly to himself, then strode forward, the crowd parting for him. His stride was slightly slower than usual, and quite a bit showier as well.

Shadow looked utterly relieved when she realized that all eyes were on her commander. He was clearly enjoying the attention.

He reached the group, sliding into the rough center of the group and joining the dance, his lithe body moving to the beat. Giving in to temptation, Shadow craned her neck to give her Prime's hindquarters an appreciative look, then turned back to her own mate, who was doing his damnedest to contain his own amusement. She smacked him, and he burst out laughing.

Not only was Ultra Rodimus drop-dead gorgeous, to say the least, he was also a great dancer. All eyes were on him as he moved to the beat of the music, and female cadets were beginning to creep even closer. He didn't seem to notice, but someone else did, and that someone decided to nip it in the bud.

Bronze-skinned arms slid around Ultra Rodimus's midsection, fingertips brushing golden skin. Magnus appeared behind his mate, stepping close. He drew his mate closer until the younger male's back touched his chest. Ultra Rodimus leaned back against him. Their movements synchronized; they were dancing as one. The bluenette eyed the advancing females for a moment, then began pressing kisses to Ultra Rodimus's neck. The younger male tilted his head to one side to give his mate access. The cadets noted that, hesitated, and backed away.

"Getting a bit territotial, Magnus," Picard murmured to himself.

"Pardon?" An admiral looked at him.

"Ultra Rodimus and Magnus are mates," Picard told them. "Councelor Troi discovered that soon after we met the Autobots. Those two are lovers. Magnus is getting a bit territorial."

Ultra Rodimus's green eyes flicked briefly in the direction of the admirals, and a faint smile touched his lips. Then he managed to catch Hot Spot's eye and pass on a pre-arranged signal. Hot Spot nodded to him, then concentrated. The change began immediately.

Shrieks of surprise drew the eyes of the captain and assembled admirals back to what was going on inside the club. They stared as Hot Spot's body suddenly blurred and began to shift shape, getting bigger, skin becoming steel, clothing merging into hard armor. Within seconds the change was complete.

The huge creature was clearly robotic. Steel plates covered a massive body. Hot Spot had a massive chest, the chestplate red in color, the rest a light blue. A ladder, like that of a fire engine, was mounted on his back. His upper legs were black, the rest of his body a light blue. He had a black helmet and a mouthplate, and his optics gleamed ruby. He was an impressive sight. What was even more impressive was that he didn't miss even a beat of the dance even during the change from human to robot.

The closest Autobot to him, Streetwise, began the chage moments after Hot Spot finished. He wasn't quite as tall as the Protectobot leader, but he was close, and he wasn't as massively built. In color, he was mostly white, with red on his feet, helmet, and midsection. The tires of his vehicle mode could clearly be seen in his arms and legs, and his upper body was obviously the front end of a car. He had a more humanoid face, lacking the mouthplate, and his optics were blue. Like Hot Spot, he didn't miss a beat of the dance.

The next Autobot to change back was Groove. He had yet another different shape. It wasn't immediately apparent what he transformed into, but Picard guessed it had something to do with a motorcycle, judging from the two large tires on Groove's legs. His chestplate was yellow, and there were weapons mounted on his lower legs. He had a blue helmet and his optics were blue.

Blades and First Aid changed back to their robot forms almost simultaneously. Blades was a helicopter-bot, judging from the two blades on his back and the landing skids on his arms. His body was mostly red, his arms, upper legs, and rotors white, his helm black. Like most of the others, his optics were sapphire. First Aid mirrored Blades' color scheme of red and white, with some variations. His helm, body, and upper legs were red, his back, lower legs, and arms white. Unlike the others, he didn't have a very discernable face, having a blue optic shield and mouthplate instead of two optics and a mouth. His alternate mode had something to do with an ambulance, if the word "emergency" written on the outsides of his lower legs was any indication.

The next Autobot to return to robot form was a massive, powerfully-built green and silver bot. His helmet had a high, curved crest running from top to the back of his neck. He was built like a pro bodybuilder and clearly possessed considerable physical strength. It wasn't immediately clear what he transformed into; his chectplate could be the front end of any type of vehicle. The backs of his lower legs sported deeply curved metal plates that could be part of any kind of vehicle.

"That must be Springer," a voice commented from nearby, and Picard glanced over to see a few other members of his crew standing there. Geordi looked at him. "Ultra Rodimus did say Springer was a triple changer, and we saw him in his rocket car mode yesterday. Briefly."

"True." Picard nodded and looked back at the tall triple changer. Then his attention was diverted as another Autobot, Arcee, shifted back.

Arcee was quite clearly a female. She was slender and more lightly built than the males, colored pink and white, but it was clear that she was just as formidable as her male counterparts. The way she stayed close to Springer also spoke volumes. They were clearly a couple.

The floor began to vibrate faintly. The vibrations quickly took on a regular pattern. Footsteps. Then another bot entered the room, already in his true form.

"I'm going to guess that's Perceptor," Riker commented.

The bot's body was red, marked with white. His upper legs and forearms were light blue. Helm and feet were black. Mounted on his left shoulder was a long barrel, a glinting lens at the end, the lens barrel of a microscope. That was enough to identify the Autobot scientist. He carried a datapad in one hand. Once inside the room, he stopped and watched.

The next two to change back were Mirage and Shadow. Mirage was unmistakably a race car. His chestplate was clearly the front end of a high-powered Formula 1 race car. His color was blue and white, which explained the hair color of his human form. A dark blue helm surrounded a white or silvery face. His upper arms, midsection, hands, and lower legs were the same dark blue. On his right shoulder was a powerful rocket launcher. His mate was a female, almost as tall as he was, mostly black with red markings. There was a jet's cockpit on her chest and jet wings spreading out from her shoulders, but there were also visible signs of at least two more alternate modes. Both legs showed the tires of a ground vehicle, most likely a sports car, and the handlebars of her bike mode were folded along her forearms. Her optics were golden. Even as a robot she was stunning.

Magnus pressed one last kiss to his mate's neck, then let go and stepped back to morph back to his own robot form.

"And I thought Springer and Hot Spot were big!" Riker and Geordi instinctively backed up.

Ultra Magnus was even taller than the others, even Springer and Hot Spot. His chest and torso were massive. That bulk was supported by legs like redwood trees. In color, he was mostly blue and white, with a red upper body. His blue helm sported two long white antennas. Forearms, midsection, and lower legs were dark blue, and there were blue bands across his upper chest. There were missile launchers on his upper arms. At a guess he had to weigh upwind of twenty tons. His alternate mode, as far as Picard could tell, was some sort of trucking vehicle.

Then it was Ultra Rodimus's turn.

Somehow he managed to shift shape and dance at the same time. Leather and skin melted together and became steel, smok-grey, striped red and blue, with a vivid red and gold spiral, his tattoo, on the back of his right shoulder. He still had his long silver-white hair. Unlike the others, his build was almost human. He was, however, considerably larger, standing a full head taler than his mate. There were no visible signs of his alternate mode or modes. In build, he was very slender, but his slim form hid immense power. His eyes were still humanoid, with emerald-green irises and slitted black pupils. He was quite handsome.

Picard looked at the admirals, seeing the utter shock on their faces, and couldn't help muttering "I told you so," under his breath.

The song came to an end. Perceptor made his way over to where Ultra Rodimus was standing.

"Ultra Rodimus, I have finished my calculations," the scientist announced, looking up at the young Prime. "The breach we arrived through is already closed, but it will be possible for us to open another one to get us home."

Ultra Rodimus nodded. "Start working on building the exlosives." He looked toward the ceiling. "Metroplex!"

"HERE." The deep voice came from everywhere at once, deep and rough. A wall monitor blinked on, showing the image of a massive white robot, marked here and there with black and sporting several visible weapons emplacements. "WHAT ARE YOUR ORDERS?"

"Start preparing for departure."

"WILL DO." The monitor blinked off.

Picard walked through the crowd of cadets toward the Autobot leader. "May I ask what you are up to?" he asked, looking up at the tall robot.

Ultra Rodimus looked down at him. "We are going home."

**Tbc...**

And there, finally, is another chapter done. Sorry it's taken me so long to update. Please don't kill me.

Shadow dragon04, I gave Shadow another new weapon. The handlebars of her motorbike mode, on her arms in her robot mode, become the hilts of a pair of nasty laser blades. Woe to any Decepticons who get to close to her. Let me know what she thinks of them. Oh, if you're wondering what the song is that Ultra Roddy's dancing to, just think of a song you know, a good song with a strong beat, one you'd dance to, and that's what it is. Whatever you want it to be.

And now, readers, send me reviews! Remember, reviews fuel updates! So if you send me reviews, I will try to get the next chapter out sooner.


	16. Backfire

Author's Note: I greatly apologize for the long delay, but it wasn't my fault. I had to deal with exams, an evil essay, and then the holidays, which meant my sisters hogging my computer. The fact that my plot bunnies chewed a hole through the fence and escaped didn't help matters any. It took this long to get them rounded up again, and I'm still not sure I've gotten all of them. So blame the school system and the plot bunnies for the delay.

Disclaimer: If you don't know by now, then I suggest you have your memory circuits checked.

**Chase the Stars**

**Chapter 15: Backfire**

As soon as she heard what the Autobot leader said, Admiral Nechayev exploded.

"You cannot leave!" she roared at him. "You have not finished telling us all we want to know! You cannot leave until..."

Emerald eyes narrowed at her. In two strides, Ultra Rodimus crossed the distance between himself and the admiral, cadets scattering out of his way. Nechayev tried to bolt, but he proved faster. His hand shot out like a striking snake, catching her before she could get two steps. Holding the back of her tunic firmly between his thumb and index finger, he lifted her up to eye level. She stared into an eye bigger than her head, the slitted pupil narrowing to bring her into focus.

"Now you listen here," he snarled at her, voice carrying an audible edge. "My people are on the brink of total extermination. We are fighting for our very survival. It has been more than two weeks since we were snatched from our own dimension and dropped here. Every day I am here brings my people one step closer to complete destruction. I cannot remain here any longer!"

"But..." she began to protest.

The young Autobot Prime had had enough. He lashed out with all his minor empathic abilities, hitting her with a mind-blast that breached her mind's natural shields and left her open for the storm of memories that followed. She let out a strangled noise as millions of years of fighting and destruction flashed through her mind, forcing her to see just how precarious the Autobots' situation was. Then he finally put her down.

"We are leaving as soon as Perceptor finishes building the explosives to reopen the breach that brought us here," Ultra Rodimus announced.

It took two days for Perceptor to get the explosives ready and load them into Metroplex's missile launchers. Once they were loaded, Ultra Rodimus chased all of the cadets and Starfleet personnel out of Metroplex. They formed a crowd in front of the Academy, waiting to see what would happen next.

Ultra Rodimus turned to face the huge Transformer city. "Metroplex, transform!"

The ground underfoot began to quiver. A great deal of the complex vanished, shifted into subspace as Metroplex, the city's core, began his transformation from city to robot. Because of his great size, his transformation was a lengthy one. But what it lacked in speed it more than made up for in its sheer intimidation factor. Anyone watching Metroplex transforming to his robot form would be running like hell in the other direction long before he finished just from imagining the being that would eventually be revealed. As it was, the crowd of cadets and even veteran admirals and captains were creeping backward as the transformation continued. Then, finally, it was complete.

"Oh. My. God," someone whispered, staring up at the behemoth.

Metroplex was colossal, towering well over five hundred feet tall. His body was massive. Every inch of his enormous frame was covered by armor that not even a photon torpedo could scratch. His upper body bristled with weapons, the muzzles glinting in the sunlight. Each of his sapphire optics was bigger than a shuttlecraft. The barrels of some of his weapons were wide enough to fly a shuttle through.

"He could inhale a human and never even notice!" someone else gasped out.

The giant's head tilted to look down at them. "I WOULD NOTICE. I'D PROBABLY SNEEZE FIRST, THOUGH. BUT I WOULD NOTICE."

"Because they'd tickle your sinuses something awful," Ultra Rodimus commented.

"PROBABLY," Metroplex agreed with a shrug.

"How can something that size move?" Picard wanted to know. "According to the laws of physics it should be impossible for such a massive creature to move at all."

Ultra Rodimus looked down at him. "If you want all the specifics, talk to Perceptor. Otherwise, suffice to say that sometimes laws are made to be broken. We are far more advanced than you are. Is it so surprising that we've figured it out?"

"I hope he can still morph to his human form," Riker commented. "Otherwise we'll never get him aboard the ship."

The Prime looked a question at him.

"Well, how were you planning to get back to where the breach opened?" The _Enterprise_'s first officer raised an eyebrow. "If I understand correctly, Metroplex cannot cross interstellar distances in any mode, and there are no ships big enough to carry all of you and him. So we decided that we'd be taking you back."

"Ah." Ultra Rodimus nodded. "My thanks."

Metroplex nodded, then began shifting to his own human form. Everyone stared as millions of tons of robot melted and compacted and shrank into a seven-foot four-inch frame. He walked over to the other Autobots. Most of them were already in their human forms. Ultra Rodimus was the only one still in his robot form. Once all of the others, including Lightfoot, had gathered, he morphed to his own human form, waited out the inevitable wolf whistles, sighs, and exclamations from the female crowd, and joined them. Turning, he looked at Picard.

"We are ready."

As before, they broke up into several small groups to get all of them aboard the starship. As soon as they were aboard, they headed for the rooms they'd been assigned when they'd first appeared. Picard watched them go, then headed for the bridge.

Ultra Rodimus stepped into the quarters he was sharing with his mate and Sandstorm, his pet cyber-wolf trotting beside him, and paused. He'd been sure Magnus had arrived before him, but the lights were off and no one seemed to be in the rooms but him and Lightfoot. Puzzled, he glanced around, then headed for the bedroom. When he opened the door, he stopped and looked around. There was no sign of anyone there. Shrugging to himself, he stripped and headed for the shower.

Not long afterward, Magnus returned. He stepped into the bedroom, clearly hearing running water. While they had been told about the sonic shower, they preferred to use water. Smiling slightly, Magnus brought out the items he'd purchased on Earth and began arranging them to produce the effect he wanted. Once he was satisfied, he peeled off his own clothing and padded into the other room, following the sound of running water.

His young mate stood with his back to him, long hair unbound, oblivious to everything but the hot water. The overhead lights were off; instead, the room was lit by the gentle glow of candles. The gentle light gleamed softly off Ultra Rodimus's golden skin and silver hair, catching in the pearls of water covering his body.

For a long moment, Magnus stood and watched him. Then he crept forward, moving as silently as he could, and joined him in the shower, reaching out to touch him. The younger male actually yipped in surprise as Magnus's arms slid around his midsection and the bluenette leaned against him. Then he relaxed.

"And just what are you up to?" he asked, looking up at his mate through silvery lashes.

"Nothing much." Magnus began nipping gently at his neck. His hands ran over his lover's chest and torso.

"Nice try." Ultra Rodimus turned to face him. "What do you want?"

"Only you." With that, Magnus leaned forward and captured his lips in a tender kiss.

It was another half hour before they got out of the shower and into the bedroom. As they entered, Ultra Rodimus noticed something different and paused for a better look. He blinked several times.

A number of candles in colored holders cast a soft, warm light around the room. Several plush rugs, appearing to be some kind of sheepskin, had been placed around the bed (though Lightfoot had dragged one away and was curled up on it in the corner, chasing petro-rabbits in his dreams), and the bed itself had been completely covered with a throw made from a beautiful alien fur, white with golden tips. The light of the candles seemed to bead on the tips of the hairs, making it appear to glow.

The young Prime looked up at his mate, raising one eyebrow.

Magnus grinned. "For once we have the same shape, and there's no bulky armor getting in the way. Let's enjoy it while we can."

The younger male let out a delighted laugh. "I like the way you think." With that, he led his lover to the bed.

The next day, they met up with the others in Ten-Forward. The entire group was demolishing a fairly large pile of food.

"I see we're not the only ones getting up late today," Ultra Rodimus observed.

There were some chuckles from around the table, and Shadow shot him a grin while Mirage suddenly became very interested in the ceiling. The young Prime returned the grin and applied himself to the plate of food in front of him.

Captain Picard joined them, pausing to watch Ultra Rodimus inhale his food. "How can you eat that much and still manage to be that slender?"

"It's because of his skrill," Magnus explained. "Falcon takes nutrients directly from Roddy's body. So he has to eat a lot to meet his own needs and keep up with Falcon. Besides, he has a high metabolism. He burns it off very quickly."

"Ah." Picard sat down and helped himself to some of the leftovers.

It took three days at warp 9 to reach the place where the original breach had opened. It had closed, but there were plenty of weak spots where a new one could be opened. While the _Enterprise _hung back, the other Autobots clustered around Metroplex.

"And firing in three...two...one..." Perceptor's voice came over the comm waves.

There was a blinding explosion as space was torn apart. A breach took shape, writhing and twisting. This time the high shriek that accompanied it was muted by open space, but the mad colors flashing through it could still give an unwary watcher a headache.

"Is it stable?" Springer asked.

"Yes, it should be..." Perceptor was cut off by the sudden wail of an alarm, and the edges of the breach spasmed. Tentacles of energy lashed out in all directions, some coming too close for comfort.

"Get us out of here!" Picard commanded.

Too late. Not even Data's android reflexes were fast enough to get the starship out of reach. One tentacle, curling back toward the writhing mouth of the dimensional break, hit them from behind, shoving them forward. The ship's engines howled as they strained to resist the breach's pull. The lights flickered wildly as power was redirected to the engines. But it wasn't enough. They were pulled in.

The ship shook like a leaf in a tornado. Picard clung to the arms of his chair for dear life. Worf lost his grip on his console and was sent flying across the bridge. Consoles shorted out in showers of sparks and arcs of electricity. Smoke filled the air.

And then it was over.

**Tbc...**

And there's another chapter. My deepest apologies for the delay. I had to reroundup the plot bunnies (they escaped _again, _the buggers), and the details of the last chapter are getting ahead of themselves. I've got most of it plotted out, but not so much the chapters between here and there. (heavy sigh)

Now, send me reviews. If you send me nice reviews, I will drag out the cattle prod and begin herding the next batch of plot bunnies. But only if you review.And no flames, please. Flames will be used to slow-roast Unicron on a spit.


	17. Damage

Author's Note: :am replacing plot bunny fences with steel bars and electric wires: Pain in the arse creatures... Sorry, sorry, SORRY for the looooong delay! This last semester at the college was hell. Two essays, exams left, right, and center... ugh. And the fact that the plot bunnies somehow managed to get out again didn't help matters any. Hopefully this few fence will hold the buggers. Please don't kill me for taking so long to update!

On another note, Roddy is no longer the only person around here sporting ink. I have two very nice tattoos (and yes, they are real) on my back, and one not-quite-finished one on my arm. Yes, getting them hurts. It's not for the faint of heart or those with a low pain tolerance. I should know.

Disclaimer: I think you get the idea.

**Chase the Stars**

**Chapter 16: Damage**

For a long few minutes, no one moved. Only when it was clear that the wild ride was over did the _Enterprise_'s crew members start to pick themselves up off the floor and begin to take stock of the damage. Smoke made the air hazy and the smell of burned metal hung thick. A few consoles had gone dark. Others were spitting sparks.

Riker groaned as he pushed himself up, rubbing his aching head. "What the hell happened?"

"The dimensional breach became unstable and pulled us in," Data reported. The android, of course, didn't have so much as a hair out of place. Pale fingers danced over his console.

"Where are we?" Picard wanted to know.

"Uncertain," Data answered.

The communications console beeped. Since Worf was only just beginning to climb back to his feet, one of the other members of the bridge crew reached over to answer. Ultra Rodimus's voice came through, accompanied by faint static and the sound of someone swearing rather colorfully in the background.

"That was not supposed to happen," the Autobot leader commented.

"Well, it did." Riker used the back of Data's chair to get to his feet. "Do you have any idea where we are?"

"We're back in our own dimension. From what our star charts say, we're on the edge of the space claimed by Cybertron and her allies."

"And the breach?" Picard asked.

"It closed behind us." Ultra Rodimus was silent for a moment. "Even if it were still open, your ship will need repairs before you attempt another trip through. In this condition the transit would shake you to pieces."

"He is correct, Captain," Data commented, looking up from his console.

"What do we do?" Picard stared at the viewscreen and the unfamiliar starscape it showed.

"We've already called for a tow truck," Ultra Rodimus replied. "They're on their way."

The overhead lights flickered and came back on all the way. On another console, several red lights blinked and went out. Riker made his way over to study the readings. He frowned slightly at what he read.

"According to these readings we suffered several hull breaches during our passage through the anomaly," he reported. "And now they're all closed. How did...?"

"That would have been First Aid and Perceptor's work," Ultra Rodimus told them. "With a little help from the machine shops in Metroplex. The repairs are crude, but they should hold long enough to get you to Cybertron. More permanent repairs can be made there."

"Thank you for your help."

There was a smile in Ultra Rodimus's voice when he responded. "You helped us. Least we could do is return the favor."

For several hours, the starship and the Autobots worked on repairing the damage done by the dimensional breach. Most of the Autobots no longer had the ability to become human, so they concentrated on the exterior of the ship. Ultra Rodimus assisted inside, in constant communication with First Aid and Perceptor. He himself was only an indifferent mechanic, so they guided him through what needed to be done. Metroplex in city mode had adhered to the ship's "back," between the warp nacelles, and was acting more or less as tech support. He'd been temporarily hooked up to the starship so he could run his own diagnostics and narrow down the worst damage.

"Captain," Data spoke up suddenly. "Sensors are reading several incoming ships of unknown design. They do not match up with anything in our database."

"Are they yours, Ultra Rodimus?" Picard asked.

The response was a word Picard didn't know, but the tone alone told him that he probably didn't want to know what it translated as; he knew a curse word when he heard it.

"I'll take that as a no," he commented. "On screen, please."

The image on the viewscreen changed, showing the incoming ships. There were several of them, shaped like massive golden pyramids, their bases wrapped in alien machinery. The design looked very vaguely Egyptian.

"Who are they?" Troi wondered.

Ultra Rodimus hissed another curse. "Goa'uld," he said flatly. "Those are ha'taks- motherships. A System Lord's fleet."

Picard thought for a moment, remembering what they'd been told about the parasitic alien race. It took him only a moment to decide that their appearance was not a good thing. "What can be done?"

"Leave that to us." Ultra Rodimus emerged onto the bridge. Walking over to Worf, he and the Klingon conversed for a moment. Then he took up a position in front of the viewscreen while Worf opened contact. When the security chief nodded to him, the young Prime addressed the pyramid ships. "Attention, Goa'uld. This space is claimed by the Cybertronian Alliance. You are not welcome here. Leave immediately."

A moment later, the screen showed the bridge of the lead ship, every surface gleaming gold. In the center was a dark-haired, dark-eyed human man dressed in ornate robes and wearing an expression of arrogant superiority. The whites and pupils of his eyes suddenly glowed with a yellow fire.

"Baal," Ultra Rodimus growled.

The System Lord regarded him coldly. "Who are you to presume to tell me where I can and cannot go?" he demanded.

Ultra Rodimus straightened up to his full six feet six inches and glared at the screen. "I am Ultra Rodimus Prime, leader of the Autobots and current commander of Cybertron. You're in our space; I have every right to tell you to take a hike."

"One crippled ship is of no threat to me," Baal told him dismissively.

The young Prime gave him what might have been called a grin if it hadn't displayed quite so many teeth. and raised his arm, activating the comm he wore on his wrist. "Metroplex?"

The huge Transformer broke the connections linking him to the _Enterprise _and rose away from the ship. Within minutes Baal and his ships were facing one of the biggest and most powerful members of the Autobot army. Metroplex narrowed his optics at them as threads of energy began to swirl lazily around the barrels of his huge cannons. The other Autobots, with the exceptions of Sandstorm and Lightfoot, rose in a swarm from where they'd been perched, making their presences known.

"Still think we aren't a threat?" Ultra Rodimus asked sweetly.

Baal glared at him, then ordered his ships to retreat and cut the communication. Everyone watched the ha'taks leave.

"Is that how you always deal with the Goa'uld?" Troi asked.

"Most of the time. Other times it takes weapons fire to get them to leave. Every now and then one decided to try and fight. They quickly learn why we're so feared by their race." Ultra Rodimus shrugged. Then he turned and left the bridge, getting back to the repair work.

Several hours later, the Autobot ships arrived. Most of them were shuttles, small by Transformer standards but huge by human standards. They were accompanying a truly enormous ship, one used for transporting derelict shuttles and easily large enough for the _Enterprise _to fit neatly into the hangar bay. The starship's crew watched with jaws hanging open as tractor beams pulled them into the bay and guided them to a berth.

"Incredible," Geordi breathed.

Docking clamps attached gently to the ship's hull, keeping it in place. A docking tube extended, finding an airlock and locking in place. There was a faint hiss as the tube pressurized.

The return trip to Cybertron took almost twelve hours. During that time, Ultra Rodimus caught up on what had happened since the original breach opened, Geordi disappeared into the giant ship's engine room, and curious members of the _Enterprise _crew swarmed through the corridors, looking at everything there was to see. Picard did a bit of exploring, then made his way to the huge ship's bridge.

"Right on time," Ultra Rodimus commented, looking down at him.

"Right on time for what?" Picard asked, walking over to the tall robot.

Ultra Rodimus reached down and picked him up, placing the startled human on his shoulder. Picard clung to the smooth, warm metal to balance himself. The young Autobot indicated the main screen. "Cybertron."

**Tbc...**

I apologize if this is a short chapter. The plot bunnies are not cooperating again. But at least they're not running loose. Again, I sincerely apologize for the lengthy delay. Such is the life of a college student... Anyway, send me some reviews. And then I will do my damnedest to get the next chapter out faster.


	18. Return Home

Author's Note: PLEASE DON'T KILL ME ::cringes:: College was not kind to me this semester. I had to transfer from a Bachelor or Arts program to a Bachelor of Hospitality and Tourism Management program, which mean that Economics is in my schedule. And Economics is not my best subject. I spent the summer working with the municipality, Parks and Grounds division. Which meant I was on the go from 8:00 a.m. to 4:00 p.m., five days a week. Now I'm working as a cashier at Sobeys, the local grocery chain.

In other news, I finally gave in and got a deviantART account! You can find me at http:// ultrarodimus. deviantart. com/ (take out the spaces, of course). Pictures of my three tattoos can be found in my gallery, if you're interested. And there is also a DRAWING OF ULTRA RODIMUS PRIME to be found on DA: http:// fatala. deviantart. com /art/ Ultra- Rodimus- Prime- 58613814. Yes, that is more or less what he looks like. I did say he looks like a really big human, didn't I?

Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers or Star Trek: Next Generation. They belong to people with lawyers I do not want to mess with. Ultra Rodimus belongs to me, and Shadow belongs to Shadow Dragon04.

**Chase the Stars**

**Chapter 17: Return Home**

"That's your homeworld?" Picard stared at the image in the screen.

Ultra Rodimus nodded. "That's it." He looked at the screen. "Home."

Below rotated a massive, dark metal planet, barely lit enough by nearby stars to make much of a difference between day and night. Cold starlight and the reflected light from the moons slightly illuminated the gashes and rents torn in the planet, huge gouges caused by a war that had raged for longer than the human could imagine. A faint ring of debris circled Cybertron, kept in place by the moons and growing more visible all the time as it collected dust and debris.

Here and there were blotches of light, indicating the presence of cities. Most were relatively small, though still larger than any Earth city in this universe. There were enormous artificial mountain ranges created when the metal had been crumpled and thrust upward into ridges that rivalled Mount Everest in terms of height. And there was one enormous gash that ran almost the entire length of the planet, a vast gaping pit that split the surface of Cybertron like an open wound. Even though it was on Cybertron's darker side it was still visible due to its enormous size and incredible depth.

"The Rift," Ultra Rodimus explained when asked. "It was torn open long ago, and none now remember how it was done or by whom. To the unwary it is a death trap. Even to the prepared, it is extremely dangerous. Many more die there than are rescued."

"I cannot imagine a war that is capable of doing this," Picard said softly, still staring at the dark metal planet rotating below.

"And hope you never see one like this," was the response.

The collosal spaceship headed for one of the moons, which sported a base. A docking area was readied, and the ship headed toward it. Picard clung to Ultra Rodimus's shoulder, watching every moment of the docking procedure, until the giant ship settled into place. Once the docking was complete, Autobot technicians began swarming over the _Enterprise, _joined by members of the Starfleet ship's crew. The repairs were already beginning when Ultra Rodimus turned and walked off the bridge.

"Get together your command crew," the silver-haired mech told Picard. "We're going to Iacon."

Their transport was a large white jet named Skyfire. During the flight he and Ultra Rodimus conversed in the odd language of the Cybertronians, half speech and half electronic chatter. The other Autobots occasionally added their own comments while the _Enterprise _crew looked on and listened. Despite the sheer alienness of the Cybertronian language, there was clear relief in Skyfire's tone.

Ultra Rodimus grunted. "The Decepticons stayed away while were were gone... we handed them one hell of a defeat the last time we clashed, so I'm not overly surprised they haven't shown their faces yet. On the other hand, that means we will see activity from them soon."

Commander Riker looked away from the window in Skyfire's passenger compartment. "From what we've been told of your enemies, I really don't want to end up in the crossfire of a major battle."

"You may not have a choice," a black and white mech introduced as Jazz told them. "We cannot predict what the Decepticons might do. They could strike at any time. So we'll have to keep tabs on all members of your crew, to make sure no one is caught outside or in a vulnerable area during an attack."

"Most of them will be at the moonbase, and the Decepticons rarely strike there," another mech pointed out.

A red, black, and white mech began ranting about security breaches and risks and spies. Ultra Rodimus silenced him with the application of one _look. _Noticing that, the red and white mech stammered and fell silent.

"That would be Red Alert," Springer commented to Picard. "One of our security officers. And one of the most paranoid mechs you're ever likely to meet."

"Paranoia seems to be a common trait in security personnel," Riker commented, glancing at Worf. The Klingon glared back.

"What does he transform into?" one human asked, indicating Red Alert.

"He's a Lamborghini," was the response. "They tend to me more than a little high-strung, though Red Alert is the worst. He's been known to work himself into such a fit of panic that he fries his own CPU. The medics just love him."

As Skyfire descended through Cybertron's dark sky toward the bright spot called Iacon, more details of the metallic surface became visible. There were distinct continents and oceans, though the latter contained not a single drop and water and were the darker, rougher patches of surface. The continents were generally of brighter, smoother metal, relatively speaking. The shattered ruins of cities dotted the landscape, spreading for miles. In some places the ruins were warped and melted, indicating just how savage the fighting could get and how powerful the weapons of the warriors could be. Here and there, actual lakes were visible, dark and nasty-looking. Their color alone hinted at their toxic natures.

"Lakes?" Data peered down. "I was under the impression that there was little to no water on Cybertron."

"Any water on the planet is monitored and recorded," Ultra Rodimus commented from where he sat. "Those lakes aren't water. They're of spilled oil and fuel, mech fluids and the like. The legacy of eons of fighting. Those lakes were once battlefields. The mech fluids of the slain pooled."

"Lakes of blood, to put it in human terms," Shadow spoke up from where she sat with Mirage.

Iacon rose into view, a domed city complex ablaze with light. Above the dome, glints of light on metal indicated the presences of a few mech birds, rare creatures on Cybertron. Thick walls, scarred and scorched, surrounded the city. There were weapons emplacements at regular intervals, and rubble had been moved away from the bases of the walls. It was clearly a city designed to withstand seiges.

Skyfire transmitted his identification code. The dome opened just enough to let him fly through, then sealed closed behind him. The jet headed for the landing area, touching down. The hatch opened to let them out.

A crowd of Autobots had gathered, and all of them started shouting at once as Ultra Rodimus emerged from Skyfire's passenger bay. The young Prime held up his hands, speaking louder to be heard over the shouting. Gradually, the noise diminished as mechs listened, a sea of rainbow color and blue optics all focussed on what their commander was saying. Since Ultra Rodimus was speaking Cybertronian, none of the _Enterprise _crew could understand a word of what he was saying, but, whatever it was, it seemed to satisfy the others. They began nodding and murmuring to each other, and then the crowd began to disperse.

"He promised to explain to everyone what has happened after we get cleaned up and get some energon," Hot Spot translated for Picard and the others.

"Where is Metroplex?" Geordi La Forge asked suddenly, looking around.

"The Aerialbots and several other ships are escorting him back to Earth," the Protectobot commander answered. "Metroplex is a permanent base, Autobot City. So he has to go back to Earth."

Picard, Riker, and Deanna followed Ultra Rodimus through the corridors to his office. The green-eyed mech opened the door... and suddenly stopped in his tracks. Picard barely avoided walking into the back of his leg. The tall mech groaned, rubbing the bridge of his nose. Picard looked up at him for a moment, then looked past him into the office.

Every horizontal surface was a riot of growth. Flowers of all colors, shapes, and sizes were everywhere. The lights were all on, and water tanks had been set up to mist the plants on a regular basis. Thick green grass climbed halfway up the walls and over most of the vertical surfaces. Ivy was climbing up the legs of the massive desk. The whole office looked like a garden gone insane.

Ultra Rodimus groaned again, then looked down the corridor. "SIDESWIPE!!!!"

"Ow." Riker rubbed his ears, shaking his head slightly. Large mechs had large vocal circuiry, and Ultra Rodimus was no exception. The corridors actually echoed the bass thunder of his roar, which made the organics' ears ring. "What was that about? Who's Sideswipe?"

"Sideswipe is one of the Lamborghini twins. The other twin is named Sunstreaker, and he is best avoided, especially on a bad day." Ultra Rodimus glared at his office for a moment, then shut the door again. "Sideswipe is our most notorious prankster. There are very mechs who've managed to avoid being pranked by him; he gets everyone sooner or later. And he is just this side of impossible to catch."

"But Roddy here can be every bit as cunning, so he'll get Sideswipe back sooner or later." Magnus appeared, handing the larger mech a cube of energon.

"I had a good teacher," Ultra Rodimus commented with a wicked grin, accepting the cube and taking a sip. "And no, it wasn't Sideswipe."

Magnus tilted his head. "Who else could have taught you to prank the way you do?"

"Sunstreaker and Sideswipe may be the best known set of twins, but what makes you think they're unique?" He winked at the blue and white mech. "My style is very different from theirs. So I had a different teacher."

Downing the rest of the cube, Ultra Rodimus turned and headed for the rec lounge, where the other Autobots had gathered to hear what their leader had to say. Magnus gaped at his mate's retreating back. He clearly hadn't known anything about a brother, much less a twin. Then he shook himself, lifted Picard and the other two off the floor, and followed the younger mech.

The rec lounge was packed. Every off-duty Autobot had crammed in, and even a few who were on-duty. The rest were listening over their comlinks while attending to their duties. At one end of the room, a dais had been set up. Most of the other Autobots who'd been pulled through the dimensional breach were there, with the exceptions of Metroplex and Sandstorm. Conversation hummed across the sea of Autobots. Then all optics turned as Ultra Rodimus and Magnus entered.

The young Prime walked over to the dais, stopping in front of the seat left for him and facing the crowd. "I promised to explain to you all what happened, and so I shall. All I ask is that you all keep your lip components shut until I'm finished."

There was a ripple of laughter at that, and a sea of nods. Ultra Rodimus nodded back, then took his seat. He was silent for a few moments, then he started from the beginning and told them everything.

The tale was met with laughter when Ultra Rodimus told of Admiral Nechayev, winces and wary looks when he described Shadow's temper flare (most Cybertronian mechs, very sensibly, had learned to be wary of femmes. they could be downright mean when provoked), and utter silence when the Prime began telling of the fight with the Borg. The tale took several hours to tell, but when Ultra Rodimus was finished, all of the others were satisfied.

The next day, Picard was in Iacon's expansive library, utterly absorbed in what he was reading, when sirens began to scream through the complex. He was so immersed in his reading that he almost fell off the desk, heart going a million miles an hour, at the first siren. The pounding of heavy feet and loud shouting filled the corridors as the Autobots raced down the halls, spilling outside.

"What's going on?" Picard yelled, finally managing to catch one's attention. The Autobot, a blue and silver mech who seemed to be nothing but a blue blur when he moved, didn't even bother speaking. He simply pointed up. Picard followed the mech's pointing finger, spotting a wave of dots descending through the dark sky.

"What are those?" Riker gasped out. Picard only stared, a cold feeling in his gut.

"Decepticons!"

**Tbc...**

Yes, I know I took forever to update. I am truly sorry for that, but this last semester has not been easy for me. I will try my damnedest to get the next chapter out sooner, and I am trying my hardest to update "Boiling Point", too. I didn't mean to take so long to update, but real life was against me. Thanks to all who poked and prodded to get me to type my fingers off for this chapter.


	19. Author's Note

**Author's Note**

I know it's been forever since my last update, and I apologize for that. Life has had its ups and downs... I work as a cashier at a grocery store, and I am a college student. My father's mother died in January, after being in the hospital for two weeks following surgery for a broken hip. Things have been hectic here, and occasionally not in a good way.

The other reason for my lack of activity on the Transformers front is that I am hooked on the anime King of Braves GaoGaiGar... as you can tell from the fics I have written for that series. Those who read my TF fics but not my GaoGaiGar fics are advised to read them... at some point I will be writing a crossover between my TF series and my GaoGaiGar Metamorphosis Saga. Read them so you'll have some idea of the storyline in both universes, and you'll be able to understand what's going on.

Early in the new year, I got involved with the biggest fanfiction project I've ever been involved in. It's a crossover fanfic between Transformers Armada and Energon, and King of Braves GaoGaiGar. I'm writing it in collaboration with two other people, Rinny101 and Aurora Prime, or AP. To date we have written nearly 500 pages, and we're nowhere near finished. Work on this massive project is the reason I haven't been updating/posting here in months, and I apologize for that. I'm handling seven to eight characters at a time in this huge fanfic, sometimes more depending on what's happening. Currently I'm playing 9 to 10 different characters.

I WILL be getting back to work on my Transformers fanfics... I'm plotting out the next chapter of "Chase the Stars" and trying to get a chance to write it. I can't give a timeline for when the new chapter might be out, though. Again, I apologize for the delay.

-Ultra Rodimus


	20. Into Battle

Author's Note: I sincerely apologize for the lateness of this chapter. As explained in my author's note chapter, I am part of a massive fanfic project being written by three people as a roleplay, completely via MSN. Right now we're nearly up to 600 pages, and have several side stories related to the main fic on the go. For the last year my muses have been completely fixed on that project. And I had writer's block.

The last year has not been an easy one... It had a lot of ups and downs. There have been deaths in the family. Last January I was visiting my grandmother, my father's mother, in the hospital when she succumbed to infection two weeks after having surgery on her hip. More recently, my aunt's father died just after New Year's. Things have been up and down in college, too. New program, new mess of classes, new problems. All adds up to one hectic year.

Disclaimer: I don't own Transformers or Star Trek: Next Generation. So if you sue me all you'll get is a mess of rabid dust bunnies.

**Chase the Stars**

**Chapter 18: Into Battle**

"Decepticons!"

Autobots poured out of the city, swarming up the walls and battlements to man the laser cannons built into the walls. The flyers were ready to take to the skies, swarming near the dome that covered Iacon. The sound of their turbines was deafening. The other Autobots crowded into the courtyard, carrying guns and blades. Picard and Riker scuttled out of the way, staring up at the approaching dots.

The first blast came raining down out of the sky, streaks of purple fire that made the ground shake underfoot. A wave of fliers descended on the city, pouring their fire into the transparent dome. Showers of sparks skated across the dome's surface. Below the crowd of Autobots continued to grow, standing almost literally shoulder to shoulder. Blue optics watched their enemies futilely attacking the dome while they waited for the signal to strike back. Some were shifting their feet, itching to get into battle, but they trusted their leader.

Ultra Rodimus walked to the head of the crowd. Falcon was hissing, glowing on his right arm, and on his left arm glinted the golden ribbon device. His battleaxe was gripped firmly in his right hand. Turning to face the assembled Autobots, he raised his weapon, and a sudden silence fell. Hundreds of blue optics watched the young Prime steadily.

"They come and strike us now, thinking we are weak," Ultra Rodimus told the watching Autobots. "They made a mistake! So, let us show them just how big a mistake they made!"

A roar answered his words. Blades and energy weapons were brandished overhead. Ultra Rodimus grinned fiercely as the gates began to open, the screaming of Decepticon turbines, weapons, and battle cries becoming clearly audible. The ground shook underfoot as a laser blast struck just outside the city gates, throwing shreds of metal and sparks into the crowd.

"Autobots attack!"

With a wild roar, the Autobots swarmed out. The jets shot out through the gates, taking to the skies and immediately engaging their Decepticon counterparts. Cybertron's perpetually dark sky was alive with bright flashes as an all-out firefight erupted between the two factions. Bursts of yellow, orange, and purple energy created weird shadows and tinted the dark sky an odd color, streaked by the flames roaring from jet turbines. A vicious dogfight raged overhead.

Something exploded with a deafening concussion, sending metal chunks and sparks flying. Thick clouds of smoke billowed around the walls as the gunner crews opened fire with the mounted laser cannons. They swept the battlefield, taking shots every time a target presented itself. Decepticons screamed in rage and pain as precise shots took off arms and legs, punching holes in wings and treads. More than a few Decepticons went after the cannons, managing to destroy several. Fire redoubled from the surviving cannons, and individual mechs leaned out of any gaps to add their fire to the cannons.

"Keep them away from the city!" Ultra Rodimus blasted another Decepticon, sending the 'Con flipping end over end into a pile of scrap. Turning, he charged another enemy, howling out a warcry. Energon and hydraulic fluid streaked the double blades of his axe and spattered his armor. Behind his visor, his optics blazed with cold fire.

"Get him!" Galvatron screamed, pointing toward the Prime. "Isolate him! Keep him away from any help! And then destroy him!"

Decepticon warriors flooded toward the Prime, surrounding him. The young mech was a whirlwind, fighting like a demon. Many of his attackers bore deep gashes opened by his axe blades. But eventually they crowded in too close fro him to get a decent swing, effectively neutralizing his preferred weapon. Cursing vilely, he turned to his skrill and the Goa'uld ribbon device, force blasts throwing Decepticons around like leaves in a sudden gale. More and more of them swarmed toward him, forcing him back, away from the Autobot lines. Spitting another profanity, he leaped skyward, transforming to jet mode.

"Oh no you don't!" Cyclonus took dead aim at his turbines, opening fire.

The young Prime let out a scream of rage and pain as thick black smoke billowed from his turbines, his engines making a sick-sounding cough and dying entirely. He tried transforming to his thunderbird form, but dozens of shots converged on his wings, blowing gaps in his feathers. He managed to awkward glide for a short distance before making a hard landing and changing back to his robot form. Howling Decepticons converged on him.

"Will he be all right?" Picard asked a wounded Autobot dragging himself back inside the besieged city.

"He is far stronger than they take him for," the Autobot grunted in response. "He's been in worse predicaments. Prime can take care of himself."

The two humans turned back to the screen on which they were watching the battle. Decepticons were swarming toward where the Prime had gone down. There was no sign of Ultra Rodimus himself. He had apparently disappeared from sight entirely. More Decepticons were intercepting the Autobots as they tried to come to their leader's aid. Galvatron was cackling insanely, taking potshots at every Autobot insignia he saw.

Something howled in sudden pain. The flow of Decepticons suddenly reversed itself, trying to get away from something. A moment later, something erupted out of the cover of a ruined structure.

"...He's resourceful, I'll give him that."

Decepticons took to the air en masse, trying to get out of the way. Though the sheer numbers trying to get airborne at once meant that more than a few were shoved back to the ground and right into the path of the Prime.

Somehow, Ultra Rodimus had found part of a ruined trailer, from some mech's vehicle mode. The drive shaft and rear wheels were intact, and a fair-sized piece of the decking. Using some method known only to himself, the Prime had managed to snare two of his enemies, one clearly a bull and the other a bull-like beast, and somehow chain them both to the drive shaft. Energon ran from their noses, where a large ring of metal had been shoved through, like a real bull's nosering. Attached to those rings were steel cables, threaded through their crude harnesses and held firmly in the Autobot commander's hand. He was steering them with one hand, clearly needing all his strength to control the two. In the other hand he held a long black whip, the tip glowing green. The lash coiled through the air seemingly of its own accord.

"Where did he manage to get his hands on a displacer?" Riker blinked, recognizing the Romulan whip.

The Prime cracked the whip over the two Decepticons' heads. Both bellowed, trying to get away from the strange weapon. Their backs were dented from the pressure wave. Two pairs of red optics gleamed with mindless panic; their only thoughts were to get away. Ultra Rodimus wrenched their heads around by sheer strength of arm, gritting his teeth and locking his legs against the pull. Strangely enough, he had a white pelt over his back, the hide of a huge wolf. The head was perched atop his helm, the front legs crossed over his chest to hold it in place.

"Looks like Carnivac made the mistake of crossing his path again," another Autobot chuckled painfully, gripping his torn midsection.

"Carnivac?" Picard repeated, looking up at the mech.

"A Decepticon Pretender. He has an external shell he can use to fight in. That's the fur of his outer shell. And this would be the second time he's been skinned." The Autobot grinned slightly, then coughed and staggered down a corridor.

The two Decepticons, desperately trying to get away from the lash of the whip, charged blindly through their own comrades, bellowing in rage and pain. If they could have, their optics would have been rolling wildly. Energon ran from the noses, and fluids ran from their jaws. Horri-bull's claws left rents in the metal ground, shredding anything they landed on be it mech or ground. Tantrum trampled several Decepticons underfoot in his panic.

Galvatron screamed in rage, optics blazing with mad hate. He fired off a shot, the blast striking thr ground right under Horri-bull's feet. The Decepticon went down, losing his footing and skidding sideways on his shoulder. Tantrum bellowed as his own balance was thrown off, and the entire rig went over. Ultra Rodimus abandoned ship, landing on his feet and making a beeline for his own lines. Autobots surged forward, opening a hole for him to slip through before closing ranks behind him. That lasted for only a few minutes before the next wave of the fighting descended.

"...I had heard that gestalts were big..." Riker was staring and he knew it.

"That must be Defensor," Picard commented, eyes just as wide as his first officer's. Neither of them had actually seen Defensor, the Protectobot gestalt, though they had been told the team was a combiner. "How can something that big move?"

The gestalt they were staring at was currently engaged with Bruticus, matching the Combaticon gestalt punch for punch. Every time he got a clear shot, blue flames erupted from his fireball cannons. Devastator had not combined, the Constructicons trying to lay low as much as possible, though that didn't stop their ancient enemy from charging straight into the thick of the battle anyway. Omega Supreme plowed right into the mass of fighting gestalts, Autobot combiners ducking out of the way of the giant Guardian robot's attack. Though the massive mech's attack looked like a berserk rush, appearances were deceiving. He was anything but berserk, and proved it by delivering a punch that could shatter a mountainside to Menasor's head. The Stunticon gestalt went doen like a felled tree, separating on impact into five semi-conscious Stunticons.

Piranacon bellowed in rage, charging the Guardian, sword raised. At the very last moment, Omega Supreme caught the movement from the corner of his optic, raising his arm to block the sword and keep it from striking his helm or neck. The sword bit deep into his arm, but stopped. The giant Autobot let out a bellow of pain, but stepped forward and pivoted, using his arm to shove the blade out of the way. His cannon arm came around as his upper body swivelled. Piranacon realized at the very last second that the barrel of Omega Supreme's cannon was mere feet from his torso, but by the time he figured that out it was already too late. The Guardian fired at full power, unleashing the full fury of his cannon at point-blank range. Smoking, badly damaged, the Seacon toppled over, exploding into the six component mechs. Snaptrap gave Omega Supreme a look of utter and complete hatred as he staggered back, sparks flying from crumpled armor. Tentakill lay completely still.

Another roar cut through the din of the fighting and the thunder of explosions. A black and gold lion, Razorclaw, launched itself over several other mechs, making a beeline for the Autobot Prime. Ultra Rodimus spun around, transforming to his own lion mode and roaring back. Both lions came within moments of colliding head-on, swerving at the very last second. An instant later they were a spitting, snarling, tearing ball of black and gold, grey and red and blue. All nearby mechs, Autobot or Decepticon, gave them a wide berth, not wanting to get sucked into what had to be the galaxy's worst catfight.

Neither of the two were even bothering with their energy, projectile, or bladed weapons. Claws and teeth struck sparks across hard armor, leaving deep grooves. There were no words spoken, only feline expressions of rage. Razorclaw tried to get at Ultra Rodimus's neck, only to be foiled by his thick silver mane, and turned to tearing at his sides and flanks instead. Sparks flew. The Prime snarled, trying to spin around and get the Predacon lion in his sights. The other mech sprang forward, around the Prime's hindquarters, managing to catch the lashing tail in his jaws and bite the end completely off.

Ultra Rodimus screamed in pain, trying to leap aside. What was left of his tail lashed, sending deep blue mech fluids spraying everywhere. Whatever they landed on began to sizzle as the nanites attacked the materials. Razorclaw caught the spray across the face and shoulder, but he ignored the burning pain and launched himself at Ultra Rodimus again. Coming in low, he managed to get his jaws on a hind paw, biting down as hard as he could. Metal crumpled with a loud crunch, and the Autobot commander screamed again. Twisting on his good leg, he brought one forepaw down on Razorclaw's face, claws fully extended. His claws left deep rents in the Decepticon's face, forcing him to let go. Snarling in rage, Razorclaw backed off a bit, shaking his head to get the energon out of his optics, while the Prime staggered away. Before the Predacon leader could attack again, a blur of red and gold, claws and fangs slammed into his side. Catilla, who was both older than the young Prime and more experienced at combat with fang and claw. The feline Autobot raked Razorclaw with his own claws, leaving rents in his armor. The Predacon was forced to retreat.

"Destroy him!" Galvatron screamed, firing his cannon at the Prime. Ultra Rodimus staggered under the barrage, returning fire with his hip-mounted cannons. The Superion crashed hard into the Decepticon leader's perch, knocking him to the ground. Abominus stomped after him, totally intent on tearing the Aerialbot combiner limb from limb. Neither one so much as noticed the purple Decepticon scrabbling on the ground below the battling titans. The Terrorcon's foot actually came down on Galvatron's gun arm, crushing it.

"Mighty Galvatron!" Cyclonus fired a blast into Abominus's heel, making the gestalt lift his foot from the Decepticon leader's crushed arm. The gestalt didn't even notice. The warrior landed beside Galvatron, helping him up.

"Deceptcons, retreat!" Galvatron suited action to words, immediately taking off and fleeing toward space without looking back. Other Decepticons peeled themselves away from their opponents, gathering their wounded and following their fleeing leader. Autobot jets chased them out past Cybertron's cold moons, where the rest of the _Enterprise _crew had been watching the battle.

Finally, the last of the enemy attackers pulled out, vanishing into the darkness of open space, and silence descended upon the battlefield.

**Tbc...**

This chapter took me the better part of a week to finish... managed to chase off the writer's block for the time being. Now, I have an essay to finish, exams to write, an event to participate in, and other assignments to work on. But I promise that it won't be another year before the next update.

Now that that's said, reviews mean the next chapter gets underway. Reviews are good.


	21. Picking Up The Pieces

**Author's Note:** I KNOW I said I'd try not to take so long between updates, but I actually do have a life away from the computer. And that life seems to have it in for me. Over the past year and a half, I have failed a class in college, which I have to retake, my computer had to be completely wiped and reformatted following an attack of that [bleep] popup virus, my sister moved away, and now my grandfather is in the hospital with pneumonia. Not that I care overly much about him; he's a verbally abusive, foul-mouthed old drunk with an entitlement complex, who treats me like property.

Also, in January my uncle Jack went in for an operation on his gallbladder. He took a turn on the table and slipped into a coma. In early May his wife made the decision to discontinue life support, and he died without waking up. Last October, my beloved pet of nearly 15 years finally lost a lengthy battle with feline diabetes and had to be humanely euthanized. I helped my father dig her grave. In January I had a tattoo done on my upper arm in her memory; a picture can be found in my DeviantART gallery.

On a better note, I am a member of the group CRAZMech Productionz here on , along with three other nutcases. We are working on a truly massive fanfiction project titled **Transformers: The Guardians**. Part 1 is already posted, and Part II is in editing. The whole thing is well over 700 pages long and we're nowhere near finished. Go take a look! And don't forget to review.

**Disclaimer:** Do I really need to repeat myself?

**Chase the Stars**

**Chapter 19: Picking Up The Pieces**

The silence lasted a brief moment while the Autobots watched their enemies fleeing into the outer dark beyond the moons, weapons still held at the ready in case it was a false retreat. With Galvatron, anything was possible. But not a single one of the Decepticons turned back to renew the fight, and once the Autobot fliers returned the warriors began to relax as much as they could.

Some mech had left a screen on so the humans and humanoids could monitor the fighting. Now they scurried out of the way as the Autobots began flowing back into their city. The thin air was hazed with smoke, dulling even the intense lights of Autobase, and the acrid smell of burnt metal hung thick, mingling with the equally powerful stink of burned circuits and spilled fluids. The silence was broken by the groans and cries of the wounded, the sizzle of sparking circuitry, and the ever-present sound of metal on metal.

Reaching the edge of the city walls, Picard looked out over the plains surrounding Iacon and Autobase. Outside of the domes complex the smoke was even thicker, slowly dispersing as it rose from the fresh blast craters and sear marks. Several piles of scrap announced casualties, either killed or badly wounded. Through the darkness he could see the sullen red glow of melted metal beginning to cool, and farther out were the moving lights that were the optics of scavengers. The noise from the returning army drowned out anything coming from outside, but Jean-Luc could imagine the calls and howls of those waiting scavengers out in the darkness.

Ultra Rodimus was just outside the gates, still in his feline mode. His crushed hindpaw was held well clear of the ground, and his mangled tail was slowly swishing behind him. Every now and then the raw end would brush against something, causing the Prime to wince, but he withstood the pain, waiting for his people to get inside before he himself would enter the safety of the city.

"Doesn't that hurt?" Geordi LaForge had snuck past the entering Transformers and was approaching the mecha lion. His VISOR was on the crushed paw and tail.

The Prime made an awkward hop on his good rear leg, swinging his hindquarters farther away from the human. "Please keep your distance... The nanites in my circulatory fluids, coolant, and lubricants are full of nanites that will eat into your body like acid if they come into contact with you." He watched Geordi until he was certain the dark-skinned man would come no closer, then flicked an ear at him. "Yes, they do hurt. But my injuries are relatively minor; they will not terminate me or cause any permanent damage. There are those hurt far worse than I."

"In short, he's too stubborn to look after himself." A large white mech, bearing the red-on-white markings of a medic, had appeared behind Geordi, startling him. The medic scowled at the lion, rotor blades flaring out from behind his back. "Aggressive internal repair system or not, you still need repairs before you lose too many fluids. Besides, I can see how badly crushed your foot is." He pointed to the offending limb. "Do I really need to remind you of what might happen if metal shards get into your fuel lines?"

Ultra Rodimus flattened both ears, giving the medic a glare and casting a significant look at the watching Autobots. The medic glared right back. Finally, sighing heavily, Ultra Rodimus turned and limped through the gates, his people clearing a path for him. Once inside, he paused and looked around for Picard. "My apologies, but the repairs to your ship will have to be put on hold briefly."

Picard nodded. "I understand. Your people come first."

The grey-armored mech nodded, then flicked an ear at the looming medic and resumed limping toward the repair bay. The _Enterprise _crew watched him go.

Since Ultra Rodimus was of a different construction than his warriors, his wounds were trickier to repair. His crushed paw took over an Earth day to repair, and the medic, later identified as Medic Alert, had to admit defeat on the Prime's tail. The Prime's own internal repair system had sealed off the stump while the medics had been working on his paw, and Razorclaw had destroyed the severed end of his tail.

"You'll look a bit odd, but there's nothing else we can do about it." Medic Alert's shrug rattled his rotors as he let go of the twitching appendage.

"I already look odd, so no difference there." Ultra Rodimus offered a feline shrug before transforming back to robot mode. He turned to Perceptor, who stood by the door, waiting. "How go the repairs?"

"Injuries weren't as bad as estimated," the blue and red scientist reported. "Most of the wounded have already been repaired, and we have been able to return crews to working on the human starship. It will still take over an Earth week to finish, though that time frame may shrink as more crews and resources become available."

"And the crew?"

"Most of them are happily exploring the moonbase, and some have been brought down to Iacon by Skyfire and Skylinx. Blaster's cassettes and some of the minibots have volunteered to act as guides, making sure they do not get lost in the labyrinth of corridors and service tunnels. Their engineers are in the labs, going through the files and talking to anyone they find available," Perceptor replied. "The captain and first officer can often be found in the libraries, accessing every available file on our history and culture."

The silver-haired mech grunted. "Can't blame them for being curious. It's not everyday they encounter a race like us." He nodded to Medic Alert, then walked out of the repair bay. A few other mechs nodded greetings at him as they passed, which he returned. Perceptor trotted after him. "Just have to make sure none of them gets lost. There were a lot of people on that ship."

"A good number of them stayed on the ship," Sideswipe commented as he passed.

"Fewer for you to prank," the Prime retorted.

"Prank? Me?" The red and black mech gave his commander a look of wide-eyed innocence.

"I know you far too well," Ultra Rodimus informed him. "And you still have to clean out my office."

"Do I have to?" the Lamborghini whined.

Green eyes pinned him in a pointed glare. Sideswipe only lasted a few moments before wilting under it. "All right, all right! I'll clean it!"

"Good." Stepping around the shorter mech, the Prime continued on his way. Perceptor had to jog to catch up, then trot to keep up with his leader's long stride. The grey mech glanced down at the microscope. "Keep me informed."

"Yes, sir." Perceptor nodded, then veered off and headed down another corridor while Ultra Rodimus continued on his way to his office, dreading the piles of paperwork he knew would be waiting for him.

In the end, it took just over a week to finish repairs to the _Enterprise _and get things ready to reopen the dimensiional rupture. This time the Ayutobots would be staying well back, not wanting to be pulled in again. Metroplex had wanted to be there to see the ship leave, but had had to remain on Earth.

"Everything is ready," Perceptor called over from his station.

Ultra Rodimus nodded. "Acknowledged." He looked at the human on his shoulder. "Time to part ways."

Picard was still not used to riding on the shoulder of a creature as big as a Transformer, and was clinging to an armor seam running over the Prime's shoulder. "Perhaps sometime in the future our oaths will cross again."

The tall mech chuckled, the vibrations clearly felt by his passenger. "You can count on that."

"Your personal jinx again?" Picard's knuckles were white as he held onto the edge of the armor plate.

"Of course. One way or another, it will get me, and then our paths will cross again." The Prime left the shuttle's bridge, heading down to the bay where Skyfire would ferry the last of the _Enterprise _crew to their ship. "That is guaranteed."

"I will keep a sensor open for you." The aged human cracked a smile at that.

The response was a broad grin. "And I, for you."

In the bay, Skyfire was already waiting in his alt mode. Several humans and humanoids milled around his boarding ramp. Ultra Rodimus walked over to the other mech, lifting a hand to scoop the captain off his shoulder. Picard let out a sound of protest, holding onto an index finger thicker than his own thigh.

"Warn a person when you do that," Picard grumbled.

Ultra Rodimus snorted. "Not that warning you would make you relax any." He put the human down, then rose to his feet. "Until we meet again, Jean-Luc Picard."

"I look forward to it, Ultra Rodimus Prime."

The two regarded each other for a moment. Then Picard boarded Skyfire, his officers following. The Valkyrie's hatch closed, and he launched out into space, circling the larger Autobot craft for a moment before heading for the Starfleet ship well out in front. One of the cargo bays had been left open for the mech to land and then take off again.

"Skyfire is back, and the hatch is closed," Pipes reported.

"Withdrawing to minimum safe distance," the pilot announced a moment later.

The Prime stood in the middle of the bridge, arms crossed over his chest, watching the screens. "Detonate the explosives."

Space erupted with silent fireworks as the carefully-prepared and placed explosives went off, so bright the optics of the watching mechs had to adjust downward to handle the brilliance. A rip quickly took form, the edges glowing with mad colors, shifting in shape like some kind of super-sized, insane amoeba. The _Enterprise _was silhouetted against the coruscating brilliance, turning to face the rip before nosing into it. Within a few moments the starship was gone, and the edges of the hole were beginning to close.

There was nothing said until the rupture was fully closed. Once the rip was sealed, Perceptor reported it to the silent mech in the middle of the bridge. Ultra Rodimus remained silent a moment longer, still gazing out into space as if he could still see the human ship. Then, finally, he nodded and shifted his gaze to the helmsmech.

"Let's go home," was all he said.

**Tbc...**

This chapter had actually been perrcolating in the back of my head for months, but every time I settled down to write something else came up. Since that last virus my computer has had a glitch... At least once a day it freezes up for an instant, then restarts itself, and I lose everything I had been working on and hadn't saved. I lost this chapter more times than I could count before I figured out to save after every paragraph.

Up next: the epilogue!

Thanks to all my readers for sticking around despite the delay, and for not killing me as the delay got even longer.


	22. Epilogue

**Author's Note:** Again, I must apologize for a lengthy delay in updates, but I had reason...

In early August, my grandfather started feeling very sick, and he ended up in the hospital. The doctors diagnosed him with pneumonia in one lung. We were hopeful he'd get over it fairly quickly, or as quickly as possible for a 93-year-old man. But, alas, it was not to be. He was getting better, but then he started going downhill. My grandfather died September 26th of last year.

I've been living with him foir the better part of seven years. And now the house where I live is going to be sold. Things have been very hectic as we're trying to get everything straightened out. I don't want to leave; I'd have to cram myself, my stuff, and my eight Betta splendens (Siamese fighting fish) into a cubbyhole of a room in a mobile home. The thought is not appealing.

Since my grandfather died, the only member of the family to call me just to talk and see how I myself have been doing has been my uncle Hughie. I never heard from anybody else unless they wanted something. Hughie had a heart attack and died in late February, breaking my only link to any other member of the family outside of my parents and sisters.

Also, college has been going downhill for me as well. I have spent two whole semesters trying to find a tutor to help me with a couple of major assignments, but the AccessAbility center at Cape Breton University has proven worse than useless. I have gotten no help and am failing because of it. I'm really and truly in trouble, and I have no idea what I'm going to do.

**Disclaimer:** Ultra Rodimus Prime is mine. Shadow belongs to Shadowdragon04. Everybody else belongs to people with more lawyers than I ever want to tangle with.

**Chase the Stars**

**Epilogue**

Ultra Rodimus stood on the ramparts of Autobase, looking out over the ruins of Iacon's former market districts. The ravaged buildings glimmered faintly under the cold starlight. His optics took in the bleak view, but his thoughts were miles away.

A soft whine and a nudge at his hand caught his attention, jolting him back to reality. The silver-haired mech looked down, seeing his pet cyber-wolf looking up at him. Yellow optics flickered quizzically as the mech animal tilted his head, pricking his ears at his master. Then the canine nudged his hand again, metal tongue lolling out in a silly lupine grin.

"Can't let me stay melancholy and reflective for five minutes, can you," the Prime murmured, chuckling as he obeyed the unsubtle hint and began scratching his pet's neck. Lightfoot leaned into his hand, panting happily, tail going a mile a minute.

"I think I'm a bit jealous," a new voice commented, and the Autobot commander looked up to see Shadow approaching. The red and black femme smiled at the happy cyber-wolf, who was well on his way to melting into a happy canine puddle of goo under his master's caress. "He's quite cute, and he doesn't seem to care what's going on. Yet he's very perceptive to your mood. It must be nice having someone to talk to who won't judge you, and who offers comfort any time you need it."

"I do admit he's very good company," Ultra Rodimus confirmed, scratching Lightfoot's ears and getting a happy whine in response. Lightfoot leaned against his leg, tail managing to wag even faster.

"Now I know I'm jealous." Shadow watched with a smile. "I'd love to have a pet 'wolf."

Ultra Rodimus tilted his head. "Then why not try to tame one? It's not overly difficult."

Shadow blinked. "I wouldn't even know where to start."

The Prime took his hand away from Lightfoot's neck, resulting in a sigh and a disappointed look from his pet. Then Lightfoot trotted back into the complex. Ultra Rodimus watched him for a moment, then waved for Shadow to follow him and headed for the main gate. "I can help you with that, though most of the work will have to be yours, since you want the 'wolf to bond with you, not with me."

The femme stuck close to her commander as he led her out of the base and into the outskirts of the ruined city. He seemed to know exactly where he was going, whereas she had no real knowledge of how the city had originally been laid out. The tall mech wove his way through the ruins until he reached what had once been an open square near the edge of the city. Waving for Shadow to settle beside him, he crouched in the shadows, looking out into the clearing.

"See there?" He pointed.

A lean, starved-looking cyber-wolf slunk into view. It was a dirty white in color, splotched with charcoal and gunmetal, and flecks of red here and there. Keeping its tail tucked between its hind legs, it crept through the wreckage until it became aware of the two Transformers. Once it noticed their presence, it immediately flattened itself to the ground, ears flat, watching them.

"Here," Ultra Rodimus breathed in Shadow's audial, pressing a container into her hand. "It's energon kibble; Perceptor made it for Lightfoot. Take a few pieces and toss them toward it. Move slowly, or you'll scare it off."

Keeping her movements very slow, Shadow opened the container, reaching into it and drawing out a small handful of glowing kibble. Taking one in her other hand, she tossed it toward the 'wolf. It cringed as the piece oif kibble landed just in front of its muzzle, then realized that it had not been struck or harmed, and slowly it inched forward to sniff the glowing object. Quickly identifying it as being food, the 'wolf practically inhaled the piece of kibble, then looked back toward the two Transformers, ears up.

"Toss the next one a little nearer," Ultra Rodimus whispered.

Every piece of kibble landed a little further away from the 'wolf. Slowly, it inched forward, closer and closer to the two Transformers. It took many hours, but eventually Shadow succeeded in coaxing the 'wolf close enough to very carefully take the kibble from her hand. The first time she tried to touch it, it cringed, almost flattening itself to the ground, but she kept her movement slow, offering it more kibble. Even so, it took her quite a while before she at last managed to brush her fingertips over the top of its head.

"Behind the ear is a small access panel," the Prime rumbled softly. "Open it slowly, and feel for a small series of chips. Right under them will be a small control panel with four connections. If Lightfoot is any example, one of those connections will be either loose or detached completely. As carefully as you can, reset it in place. That will reset the original programming, since cyber-wolves were originally meant as guards and pets. After that, it's up to the 'wolf if she wants to run away, or stay and become a pet."

"She?" Shadow whispered back, feeling for the panel.

"This 'wolf is a female. A fairly young one, from the look of her."

It took a bit of poking for Shadow to locate the connection and get it back into place. The 'wolf's optics flickered for a long moment. Then it looked straight at Shadow, as if considering. The femme watched it, waiting to see what it would do. Then, finally, the 'wolf took a step closer.

"She's chosen you," Ultra Rodimus murmured. "But she still needs a lot of training, as she's lived all her life running feral.

Shadow carefully reached out and began scratching behind the 'wolf's ears. Red optics dimmed, and the 'wolf leaned into the caress. A bright smile blossomed on the femme's face. For a long moment, she forgot there was another Autobot there. Until Ultra Rodimus made a startled sound, and she turned to look at him.

The Autobot commander was looking as the smaller mech animal that had appeared right in front of him. It was a turbo-fox, showing no sign of the wariness its kind usually had around Transformers of any faction. Having been the favored prey of the nobles during the Golden Age and even the early stages of the Great War had taught the 'foxes to avoid all contact with the dominant races of Cybertron. This one, apparently, had failed to get that memo. It stood in front of the Autobot commander, showing no nervousness or fear despite the fact that he was many times its size, and could very easily have killed it. Yellow optics watched him with curiousity and an intelligence he'd never seen in a turbo-fox before. Then it actually padded closer, sniffing at his arm and legs.

Grinning, Shadow handed him the container of kibble. He gave her a sideways look, then experimentally took out a single kibble and offered it to the 'fox. The small mech animal took it from him without hesitation, then stood up on its hind legs to stare him right in the face. Bemused, he stared back.

Wire whiskers twitched for a moment, and pointed ears flicked. Then the creature startled the much larger mech by hopping up onto his shoulders and sniffing at his audial plate. He tried to shoo it off, but the 'fox only jumped back up, hooking sharp metal claws into his reptile-skin coat.

"Looks like it's chosen you," Shadow told him between giggles.

Ultra Rodimus sighed. "This is going to be interesting..." He rose to his feet, the 'fox still clinging to his shoulder.

"I don't think you're going to be able to get rid of it," the femme observed. "It'd just weasel its way into the city and go looking for you."

"As far as I know, nobody has ever managed to tame a turbo-fox." He experimentally rubbed the 'fox's neck, and it leaned into his hand.

"First time for everything." Shadow stood up, keeping one hand on the shoulder of her 'wolf.

"True, true." Ultra Rodimus glanced at the 'fox again as if settled onto his shoulder, yellow optics half-closed, then shook his head in amazement. "We should be getting back now, before our respective mates come looking for us."

Shadow grinned. Then both turned back toward Autobase, leaving the darkness of the ruined city behind.

**Fin.**

And that is that. She's-a finally done. The ending didn't turn out quite as I'd planned, but that's about par for the course, it seems...

Next time: A ruined complex from the days of the Quintesson Occupation and the Great Rebellion yields up an ancient secret. What does this mean for the war? Up next: "Awakening"


End file.
